My Afghan-German-Oxtralian friend sent me this link to an article headlined Lonely memorial for China's forgotten war.
Although China invaded Vietnam on February 15, 1979, launching a war that turned into a low-intensity border conflict through most of the 1980s, a look at the cemetery in Malipo reveals little of what transpired....
"When border treaties were signed two decades later, China tallied 26,000 dead combatants and Vietnam an estimated 37,000."
Me mate also told me he often talked to people in Guangxi about Vietnam and and at one dinner he attended with Viets, Chinese and Australians, he asked the Guangxi-nese if they could speak any Vietnamese.
One ex-Army guy got up and said: "Yes, I can speak some Vietnamese - 'Put your gun down, your hands up and come out slowly!"
Apparently everyone pissed themselves laughing, especially the Vietnamese.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The 64-million dollar divorce
An FPT mogul hands over 64 million in stock to his soon-to-be-ex-wife.
As I mentioned before the stock market has gone nuts here and there's a new fascination with multi-millionaires. Hitherto being wealthy would have been hush-hush but as everyone in Vietnam knows, in the last decade a more if-you-got-it-flaunt-attitude has developed (hey, if I could, I'd buy a BMW too), but the real kings of the castle (and you're the dirty rascals!) weren't best pleased to be publicly included in a list of "the top 100 wealthiest people in Vietnam."
From the DPA article, same one that's linked above:
Vietnam's infant stock market - which rose 144 per cent last year - has made overnight millionaires out of several executives at formerly state owned companies.
The rise of stock market millionaires in a country that didn't even have a securities exchange until 2000 has led to another new phenomenon: the 100-richest list.
Earlier this year, several Vietnamese newspapers printed lists of the country's wealthiest investors, based on their publicly disclosed stock holdings, though not including real estate magnates or other business leaders.
The list caused a minor outcry among some on the list, who complained they were exposed to kidnapping and extortion by being outed.
An FPT mogul hands over 64 million in stock to his soon-to-be-ex-wife.
As I mentioned before the stock market has gone nuts here and there's a new fascination with multi-millionaires. Hitherto being wealthy would have been hush-hush but as everyone in Vietnam knows, in the last decade a more if-you-got-it-flaunt-attitude has developed (hey, if I could, I'd buy a BMW too), but the real kings of the castle (and you're the dirty rascals!) weren't best pleased to be publicly included in a list of "the top 100 wealthiest people in Vietnam."
From the DPA article, same one that's linked above:
Vietnam's infant stock market - which rose 144 per cent last year - has made overnight millionaires out of several executives at formerly state owned companies.
The rise of stock market millionaires in a country that didn't even have a securities exchange until 2000 has led to another new phenomenon: the 100-richest list.
Earlier this year, several Vietnamese newspapers printed lists of the country's wealthiest investors, based on their publicly disclosed stock holdings, though not including real estate magnates or other business leaders.
The list caused a minor outcry among some on the list, who complained they were exposed to kidnapping and extortion by being outed.
Yo, yo, yo, cac ca si oi...
An opportunity for the zillion young wanna-be ca si out there in the shape of Vietnam Idol, sadly, for me at least, open only to Vietnamese nationals, but if, if, if I can somehow achieve fluency in the tieng viet department the role of oh-so cynical Simon could perhaps still be a goer, definitely wouldn't want to be that fella Randy who just says 'dawg' all the time, as saying yo, con cho oi all the time would just look plain silly.
An opportunity for the zillion young wanna-be ca si out there in the shape of Vietnam Idol, sadly, for me at least, open only to Vietnamese nationals, but if, if, if I can somehow achieve fluency in the tieng viet department the role of oh-so cynical Simon could perhaps still be a goer, definitely wouldn't want to be that fella Randy who just says 'dawg' all the time, as saying yo, con cho oi all the time would just look plain silly.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Crosstown traffic
In the urban jungle Teddy de Burca Jnr. spots a hitherto unknown species on the Hanoi streets – Zebra Crossings
Near the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum I almost knocked a pedestrian over. He was crossing in fits and starts, unsure whether I was going to the left of him or the right, straight down the middle, or, the highly improbable last possibility, actually stopping to let him cross.
I eventually went to the left, the polite choice I believed, as he was walking left to right, but then he decided to do a bit of a moonwalk and take two steps back – I almost clipped him but fair play to the young fellow, he half hurdled my front wheel, and made it to the pavement, slightly flustered but alive.
I heard him shout “Dien (Crazy)!” and I thought that was a bit harsh as I wasn’t driving very fast and had done my best to veer around him – he was the one walking forwards and backwards in the middle of the road. When I looked back to shrug my shoulders indifferently he was pointing down at something I’d never really noticed before – a creature known as the Zebra Crossing, hitherto unspotted in the little supervised wilds of Hanoi’s traffic, but not unfamiliar to me in my past life as a pedestrian back in the homeland.
How long had I been ignoring these hapless pedestrians rightfully, yet understandably gingerly, stepping out onto the Zebra Crossings? Well pretty much since the day I got here. Sheep-like, I’ve just been following the masses. No one else stopped so I didn’t either. There are no red lights, no traffic cops and no lollipop ladies with red-lettered STOP signs – what can I say, except I’m sorry?
I drove on, feeling a bit guilty, promising that I’d do my bit – forever more – and take note of these crossings and stand up (or slow down at least) for pedestrian rights, after all they have feelings too.
As I rounded the next corner a group of tourists stood on the side of the road, one took his chances with the Zebra Crossing and bounded across, I slowed to a near halt, feeling thoroughly upstanding with my new pedestrian-friendly persona. He half-acknowledged my courtesy with a flapping wave, and kept going, but arcing around me at about 50kmph a young man on his moped came through, still blithely unaware of what a Zebra Crossing is, where to look, what to do when you see one in the urban jungle.
Nonchalantly he swerved around the petrified tourist, who scurried to the other side, while behind me a large SUV lurched forward, honking at me – places to go, people to see, don’t you know. The tourist’s friends abandoned their crossing. The traffic surged forward, what could I do but roll away with it, leaving the endangered pedestrians and Zebra Crossings behind.
A couple of companion vids off youtube from HCM City:
In the urban jungle Teddy de Burca Jnr. spots a hitherto unknown species on the Hanoi streets – Zebra Crossings
Near the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum I almost knocked a pedestrian over. He was crossing in fits and starts, unsure whether I was going to the left of him or the right, straight down the middle, or, the highly improbable last possibility, actually stopping to let him cross.
I eventually went to the left, the polite choice I believed, as he was walking left to right, but then he decided to do a bit of a moonwalk and take two steps back – I almost clipped him but fair play to the young fellow, he half hurdled my front wheel, and made it to the pavement, slightly flustered but alive.
I heard him shout “Dien (Crazy)!” and I thought that was a bit harsh as I wasn’t driving very fast and had done my best to veer around him – he was the one walking forwards and backwards in the middle of the road. When I looked back to shrug my shoulders indifferently he was pointing down at something I’d never really noticed before – a creature known as the Zebra Crossing, hitherto unspotted in the little supervised wilds of Hanoi’s traffic, but not unfamiliar to me in my past life as a pedestrian back in the homeland.
How long had I been ignoring these hapless pedestrians rightfully, yet understandably gingerly, stepping out onto the Zebra Crossings? Well pretty much since the day I got here. Sheep-like, I’ve just been following the masses. No one else stopped so I didn’t either. There are no red lights, no traffic cops and no lollipop ladies with red-lettered STOP signs – what can I say, except I’m sorry?
I drove on, feeling a bit guilty, promising that I’d do my bit – forever more – and take note of these crossings and stand up (or slow down at least) for pedestrian rights, after all they have feelings too.
As I rounded the next corner a group of tourists stood on the side of the road, one took his chances with the Zebra Crossing and bounded across, I slowed to a near halt, feeling thoroughly upstanding with my new pedestrian-friendly persona. He half-acknowledged my courtesy with a flapping wave, and kept going, but arcing around me at about 50kmph a young man on his moped came through, still blithely unaware of what a Zebra Crossing is, where to look, what to do when you see one in the urban jungle.
Nonchalantly he swerved around the petrified tourist, who scurried to the other side, while behind me a large SUV lurched forward, honking at me – places to go, people to see, don’t you know. The tourist’s friends abandoned their crossing. The traffic surged forward, what could I do but roll away with it, leaving the endangered pedestrians and Zebra Crossings behind.
A couple of companion vids off youtube from HCM City:
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Bloody unbelievable
Saw this striking picture on flickr and it reminded me how I used to eat this stuff with the Baron in Truc Bach village, once upon a time, in a land where the duck was free to be eaten without any consequences (for you) - such as death by H5N1 flu strand.
For those who don't know it's tiet canh - fresh blood which has been chilled so it congeals, it's made from a duck, goose or a pig, mostly, served with crushed peanuts and washed down with a glass of liquor or bia. It has the not unusual distinction of being "good for man" (what isn't "good for man" in this country I have yet to work out with the exception perhaps of wives... even sweetcorn is "good for man").
Has disappeared from the streets of Hanoi as it's a no-no (whether it's a law or collective responsibility I can't quite be sure, the official line is the authorities are still 'considering' banning it) due to bird flu but apparently, my reporter friend tells me, it's easily found on the outskirts or in Ha Tay province.
Here's another bloody photo by the same chap - look like wee bowls of paints in an artist's studio, but believe it or not, people eat that stuff up.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Music, songs bands that name drop Vietnam part III or IV
Turns out Pink (to make the boys wink) had a song My Vietnam, it's awful, as you might expect.
This is my Vietnam/ I'm at war/ They keeps on dropping bombs/ And I keep score
Anyway...
I'd hoped to make a set list of songs with the word Vietnam or another Vietnamese place in the title or simply bands with a Vietnamese place in their name but I'm struggling to find enough playable music. Ideas still welcome (you can see the other songs and bands already mentioned a few posts down).
Checked out Hanoi Rocks on youtube. Seems like Queens of the Stone Age ripped those poor auld Finnish rockers off - listen to the opening riff.
Big in Russia so they were.
Great hair-dos too.
Turns out Pink (to make the boys wink) had a song My Vietnam, it's awful, as you might expect.
This is my Vietnam/ I'm at war/ They keeps on dropping bombs/ And I keep score
Anyway...
I'd hoped to make a set list of songs with the word Vietnam or another Vietnamese place in the title or simply bands with a Vietnamese place in their name but I'm struggling to find enough playable music. Ideas still welcome (you can see the other songs and bands already mentioned a few posts down).
Checked out Hanoi Rocks on youtube. Seems like Queens of the Stone Age ripped those poor auld Finnish rockers off - listen to the opening riff.
Big in Russia so they were.
Great hair-dos too.
Who ate all the banh bao?
A few of the boys on their beat it seems, and now these cops are hitting the gym to get back in shape and back on the game. Cue the Rocky music!
A few of the boys on their beat it seems, and now these cops are hitting the gym to get back in shape and back on the game. Cue the Rocky music!
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Another one for...
...the set list of songs name dropping Vietnam... this is just a snippet and what a whacky snippet it is - Elliot-o it's up your ngo/alley, but then it is the Fiery Furnaces, check them out there, official website, or at the myspace page.
...the set list of songs name dropping Vietnam... this is just a snippet and what a whacky snippet it is - Elliot-o it's up your ngo/alley, but then it is the Fiery Furnaces, check them out there, official website, or at the myspace page.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Highway to hell... and back again
A year and a half after an accident on the road from Phan Thiet to Ho Chi Minh City, Teddy de Burca Jnr. found himself reluctantly on an all-too-familiar road
The vans overtaking the trucks overtaking the cars overtaking the buses are making me nervous. The weather is hot and the AC is not firing on all cylinders, but that’s not necessarily why sweat is dribbling down my cheeks.
The fact that my driver is – judging by appearances – 12 years old is not helping matters. I look down to check his feet can reach the brake pads. Much to my surprise they can. Not that I'm reassured - this means he is actually going to drive and not just - as I hoped - keeping the seat warm for an adult with a driver's license.
My dearly beloved Mrs. De Burca is not speaking to me, because I’m not speaking to her. So we sit in silence. The sounds we hear are the familiar but not very reassuring sounds of Vietnam’s highways – the stretched out-sound of beeps as vehicles zoom past at a million miles per hour.
It reminds me of a joke: what’s the sound of a cat driving at 150 miles per hour? Answer: Meeeeeeeeeeeowwwwwwwwww… But I’m not laughing, and not because the joke isn’t funny, I just can’t relax. In my lap there’s a book I’m not reading. There’s no chance of me falling asleep. So I switch on the radio and we listen to some Cham music, but still my eyes never leave the road. Every car, bicycle, motorbike, truck, van, bus, SUV is an accident waiting to happen in my head.
Road trauma, I suppose, is expecting these accidents to happen. I believe they will. It’s just a matter of time. The 12-year old driving the car probably believes they won’t. I don’t know what Mrs De Burca thinks, because she’s not talking to me, but I’m to blame as I wasn’t talking to her first.
You see it has been about 18 months since I discovered without joy what happens when a very fast moving vehicle smashes into a much larger stationary one. Not quite the answer to the rhetorical riddle: what happens when the immovable object is hit by the irresistible force, but, nonetheless, of interest to some one out there, I’m sure.
You see I was inside a taxi with a driver hell bent on travelling at the speed of light (click that link, see three posts down) somewhere outside Xuan Loc town in Dong Nai province. Our course was interrupted by a rather large truck. On impact our bonnet crumpled, the truck didn’t budge. I was hurled into the front seat and smashed my humerus bone – which wasn’t very funny, ha-ha-ha – and my left foot too. Mrs De Burca was sleeping and bounced off a chair and was ok, apart from bruises; she is blessed with double jointed arms which are disturbingly flexible – rather like Elastigirl from The Incredibles. The taxi driver, while knocked unconscious, would live to explain his way out of jail. Only I was broken into smaller pieces.
My journey was far from over, after a makeshift fix up at a local hospital with two planks of wood and a hefty dose of painkillers (nhieu kudos) and a rescue run by International SOS (mucho kudos for you too) in Ho Chi Minh City, I ended up on my own chartered plane (the Mango-something-or-other which flies to Ko Samui every other day) jetting off to Bangkok where all the King of Thailand’s doctors and nurses tried to put my arm back together again.
But trauma takes a little longer to heal, if it heals at all, and ever since sitting in a car with another driver has not been easy for me. Even the relatively short trip from my house to Noi Bai airport is an excruciating experience, like getting slowly beaten up, I imagine.
This year after our Tet obligations were done and dusted, Mrs de Burca and I decided to head south for a quick holiday. Originally I was led to believe we’d be taking the train to Phan Thiet, but it was full.
With a room booked and friends meeting us there, we didn’t want to renege on our decision. Mrs De Burca assured me she’d hire a good car with a good driver. She had a number. That turned out to be the number of the 12-year old, which is why I’m not talking to her, which is why she’s not talking to me.
The journey takes over four hours, a spell during which I constantly picture pile ups, smashing windscreens and other gruesome possibilities, or probabilities, as I believe.
But then suddenly, just when I think this journey will not end, we’re winding down a drive way to our resort tucked in along the rugged coastline of Mui Ne. We have, much to my surprise, arrived in one piece. The 12-year old did it; the precociousness of youth, says you.
I step out and breathe the salty-sea breeze deep into my lungs. I’d feel refreshed but all I can smell is the nervous sweat which has soaked my shirt through. As we walk into reception I decide to start talking again.
“Well, I’m definitely never doing that again, let’s take the train back.”
The eager receptionist overhears me and, after welcoming us to Mui Ne, informs us that the train back to Ho Chi Minh City is fully booked for at least another week, which is why I’m still not talking to Mrs de Burca, which is why she’s not talking to me.
A year and a half after an accident on the road from Phan Thiet to Ho Chi Minh City, Teddy de Burca Jnr. found himself reluctantly on an all-too-familiar road
The vans overtaking the trucks overtaking the cars overtaking the buses are making me nervous. The weather is hot and the AC is not firing on all cylinders, but that’s not necessarily why sweat is dribbling down my cheeks.
The fact that my driver is – judging by appearances – 12 years old is not helping matters. I look down to check his feet can reach the brake pads. Much to my surprise they can. Not that I'm reassured - this means he is actually going to drive and not just - as I hoped - keeping the seat warm for an adult with a driver's license.
My dearly beloved Mrs. De Burca is not speaking to me, because I’m not speaking to her. So we sit in silence. The sounds we hear are the familiar but not very reassuring sounds of Vietnam’s highways – the stretched out-sound of beeps as vehicles zoom past at a million miles per hour.
It reminds me of a joke: what’s the sound of a cat driving at 150 miles per hour? Answer: Meeeeeeeeeeeowwwwwwwwww… But I’m not laughing, and not because the joke isn’t funny, I just can’t relax. In my lap there’s a book I’m not reading. There’s no chance of me falling asleep. So I switch on the radio and we listen to some Cham music, but still my eyes never leave the road. Every car, bicycle, motorbike, truck, van, bus, SUV is an accident waiting to happen in my head.
Road trauma, I suppose, is expecting these accidents to happen. I believe they will. It’s just a matter of time. The 12-year old driving the car probably believes they won’t. I don’t know what Mrs De Burca thinks, because she’s not talking to me, but I’m to blame as I wasn’t talking to her first.
You see it has been about 18 months since I discovered without joy what happens when a very fast moving vehicle smashes into a much larger stationary one. Not quite the answer to the rhetorical riddle: what happens when the immovable object is hit by the irresistible force, but, nonetheless, of interest to some one out there, I’m sure.
You see I was inside a taxi with a driver hell bent on travelling at the speed of light (click that link, see three posts down) somewhere outside Xuan Loc town in Dong Nai province. Our course was interrupted by a rather large truck. On impact our bonnet crumpled, the truck didn’t budge. I was hurled into the front seat and smashed my humerus bone – which wasn’t very funny, ha-ha-ha – and my left foot too. Mrs De Burca was sleeping and bounced off a chair and was ok, apart from bruises; she is blessed with double jointed arms which are disturbingly flexible – rather like Elastigirl from The Incredibles. The taxi driver, while knocked unconscious, would live to explain his way out of jail. Only I was broken into smaller pieces.
My journey was far from over, after a makeshift fix up at a local hospital with two planks of wood and a hefty dose of painkillers (nhieu kudos) and a rescue run by International SOS (mucho kudos for you too) in Ho Chi Minh City, I ended up on my own chartered plane (the Mango-something-or-other which flies to Ko Samui every other day) jetting off to Bangkok where all the King of Thailand’s doctors and nurses tried to put my arm back together again.
But trauma takes a little longer to heal, if it heals at all, and ever since sitting in a car with another driver has not been easy for me. Even the relatively short trip from my house to Noi Bai airport is an excruciating experience, like getting slowly beaten up, I imagine.
This year after our Tet obligations were done and dusted, Mrs de Burca and I decided to head south for a quick holiday. Originally I was led to believe we’d be taking the train to Phan Thiet, but it was full.
With a room booked and friends meeting us there, we didn’t want to renege on our decision. Mrs De Burca assured me she’d hire a good car with a good driver. She had a number. That turned out to be the number of the 12-year old, which is why I’m not talking to her, which is why she’s not talking to me.
The journey takes over four hours, a spell during which I constantly picture pile ups, smashing windscreens and other gruesome possibilities, or probabilities, as I believe.
But then suddenly, just when I think this journey will not end, we’re winding down a drive way to our resort tucked in along the rugged coastline of Mui Ne. We have, much to my surprise, arrived in one piece. The 12-year old did it; the precociousness of youth, says you.
I step out and breathe the salty-sea breeze deep into my lungs. I’d feel refreshed but all I can smell is the nervous sweat which has soaked my shirt through. As we walk into reception I decide to start talking again.
“Well, I’m definitely never doing that again, let’s take the train back.”
The eager receptionist overhears me and, after welcoming us to Mui Ne, informs us that the train back to Ho Chi Minh City is fully booked for at least another week, which is why I’m still not talking to Mrs de Burca, which is why she’s not talking to me.
Vietnam... the band
Well, they're from New York, but they're called Vietnam and if rock isn't your bag, than perhaps you'd prefer Vietnam Disco all the way from Chester in Wales.
Can't vouch for either of them as I haven't listened to the tracks yet, so don't shoot the messenger if they're pants.
Speaking of Vietnam related band names, worthy of a mention, of course, are Helsinki's finest, Hanoi Rocks.
I've also heard a few tracks by Unkle Ho - you can download their songs here.
Probably a few Saigon-influenced band names out there too - a quick google brings up Saigon Distress Signal, a Canook "Hardcore / Melodramatic Popular Song / Shoegaze" outfit and also a rap act Saigon : Tha Yard Father, a Brooklyn fella it seems (you can download his single, Pain in My life for free on the myspace page, and Saigon Kiss from Norwich... who knows why boys from Norwich chose Saigon Kiss. If I get a chance I'll try and email them.
Also, gets me thinking about a top 10 Vietnam-related songs (but not counting actual Vietnamese songs, anthems, not that I'm not a HUGE fan of Vina-pop - I mean Tays who don't live here stuff). Suggestions on a postcard if you can be bothered.
Number one - Jimmy Cliff - Vietnam Listen to that track here
Well, they're from New York, but they're called Vietnam and if rock isn't your bag, than perhaps you'd prefer Vietnam Disco all the way from Chester in Wales.
Can't vouch for either of them as I haven't listened to the tracks yet, so don't shoot the messenger if they're pants.
Speaking of Vietnam related band names, worthy of a mention, of course, are Helsinki's finest, Hanoi Rocks.
I've also heard a few tracks by Unkle Ho - you can download their songs here.
Probably a few Saigon-influenced band names out there too - a quick google brings up Saigon Distress Signal, a Canook "Hardcore / Melodramatic Popular Song / Shoegaze" outfit and also a rap act Saigon : Tha Yard Father, a Brooklyn fella it seems (you can download his single, Pain in My life for free on the myspace page, and Saigon Kiss from Norwich... who knows why boys from Norwich chose Saigon Kiss. If I get a chance I'll try and email them.
Also, gets me thinking about a top 10 Vietnam-related songs (but not counting actual Vietnamese songs, anthems, not that I'm not a HUGE fan of Vina-pop - I mean Tays who don't live here stuff). Suggestions on a postcard if you can be bothered.
Number one - Jimmy Cliff - Vietnam Listen to that track here
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Love me long time tea?
Back at home over Christmas I delivered tea to my old mucker's parents, I didn't really check the brand out or pay any attention to what flavour it was. Some sales assistant recommended it when I was down in sunny HCM City and why that was good enough for me. I just threw it in my bag and split.
(It might be this one...)
It turns out it was Phuc Long tea and my old mucker's dad couldn't resist emailing me the other day just to say "strange tea, but what a name!"
I hadn't ever thought of it, but there you go, uttered in the quaint Irish brogue, or by any one speaking English I suppose, or saying Vietnamese words without tones, it could mean something quite different than its real meaning, which is, for the record, Blessed Dragon.
I had to restrain myself from asking him if it worked. I was just happy he was tickled pink and I like picturing him welcoming guests and suggesting, " Phuc Long anyone?"
Phuc, which means blessed by itself, is also a boy's name but in this modern world it may soon be more of a curse than a blessing.
You can imagine the possibilities... "Go get Phuc will ya!" and so on.
Back at home over Christmas I delivered tea to my old mucker's parents, I didn't really check the brand out or pay any attention to what flavour it was. Some sales assistant recommended it when I was down in sunny HCM City and why that was good enough for me. I just threw it in my bag and split.
(It might be this one...)
It turns out it was Phuc Long tea and my old mucker's dad couldn't resist emailing me the other day just to say "strange tea, but what a name!"
I hadn't ever thought of it, but there you go, uttered in the quaint Irish brogue, or by any one speaking English I suppose, or saying Vietnamese words without tones, it could mean something quite different than its real meaning, which is, for the record, Blessed Dragon.
I had to restrain myself from asking him if it worked. I was just happy he was tickled pink and I like picturing him welcoming guests and suggesting, " Phuc Long anyone?"
Phuc, which means blessed by itself, is also a boy's name but in this modern world it may soon be more of a curse than a blessing.
You can imagine the possibilities... "Go get Phuc will ya!" and so on.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Angelina minus Brad Part I: Lawyer needed for mother of four
Well, this is from some celebrity mag under the headline, Jolie breaks Vietnam law to adopt kid, but I can't find a link: Under Vietnamese law single parents who are co-habiting cannot adopt... to which International adoption official Tatiana Beams has commented: "This is a clear contradiction of Vietnamese law, and such situations would not be allowed for other couples."
So a spot of legal bother on the horizon, perhaps, or perhaps not. One quick pout from Angelina's bee-stung gums, supported perhaps by a back up pout from her partner if deemed neccesary, should see them slip out of this fine pickle of a conundrum and into the clear.
I promise never to post anything about them ever again...
Well, this is from some celebrity mag under the headline, Jolie breaks Vietnam law to adopt kid, but I can't find a link: Under Vietnamese law single parents who are co-habiting cannot adopt... to which International adoption official Tatiana Beams has commented: "This is a clear contradiction of Vietnamese law, and such situations would not be allowed for other couples."
So a spot of legal bother on the horizon, perhaps, or perhaps not. One quick pout from Angelina's bee-stung gums, supported perhaps by a back up pout from her partner if deemed neccesary, should see them slip out of this fine pickle of a conundrum and into the clear.
I promise never to post anything about them ever again...
Brangelina Part II: Are they really, really keo kiet?
Well, they sure don't tip...
Ok, it's official we have no soul and we're turning into a trashy-celebrity obsessed blogspot, but hot news just in - a scoop! a scoop! - from HCM City where the identity of the owner of the Yamaha Nouvo, which the Hollywood duo drove around a few months back has just been confirmed.
The man, who's name cannot be revealed for fear of the tabloid press hunting him down like a defenceless animal (ok, we don't know his name, and we're sure he'd happily sell his story if you can track him down), is the Bellboy at the Park Hyatt. Our on-the-spot asscoiates asked him how much he rented his bike for.
"Well, I didn't get anything," he meekly confessed. He was after all just following orders from his eager-to-please superiors.
But surely a tip from two of the hottest stars in show business who are worth a gazillion Vietnam dong?
"Um..., well, no."
Khong co gi indeed. The poor man. Still he can't be doing too bad if he has a Nouvo but - how cruel fate mocks us - that photo of them riding the bike was probably sold for thousands of dollars.
Still, hopefully Pittstop Works can spur one of you wannabe-tabloid Ho Chi Minh City residents into getting down to the Park Hyatt and fishing for the lowdown and selling his story to ... Hello?
Go on make him famous, give him his 15 minutes, and hopefully a nice fat tip too. What goes around should come around.
Well, they sure don't tip...
Ok, it's official we have no soul and we're turning into a trashy-celebrity obsessed blogspot, but hot news just in - a scoop! a scoop! - from HCM City where the identity of the owner of the Yamaha Nouvo, which the Hollywood duo drove around a few months back has just been confirmed.
The man, who's name cannot be revealed for fear of the tabloid press hunting him down like a defenceless animal (ok, we don't know his name, and we're sure he'd happily sell his story if you can track him down), is the Bellboy at the Park Hyatt. Our on-the-spot asscoiates asked him how much he rented his bike for.
"Well, I didn't get anything," he meekly confessed. He was after all just following orders from his eager-to-please superiors.
But surely a tip from two of the hottest stars in show business who are worth a gazillion Vietnam dong?
"Um..., well, no."
Khong co gi indeed. The poor man. Still he can't be doing too bad if he has a Nouvo but - how cruel fate mocks us - that photo of them riding the bike was probably sold for thousands of dollars.
Still, hopefully Pittstop Works can spur one of you wannabe-tabloid Ho Chi Minh City residents into getting down to the Park Hyatt and fishing for the lowdown and selling his story to ... Hello?
Go on make him famous, give him his 15 minutes, and hopefully a nice fat tip too. What goes around should come around.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Baby boom
All across Asia it's a baby boom - here's the first batch this year for Vietnam, as well as an explanation... basically the Year of Pig is considered a good, lucky year for having a kid anyway (in Vietnam, Korea and China), but this Lunar Year is the GOLDEN YEAR OF THE PIG, which means it's qua duoc...
Plus, from last week, I missed this story in the Snooze
on the current mania for trading stocks:
"The VN-Index is hotter than my girlfriend," joked Xuan Phong, a bank official. .
Which means his girlfriend must be pretty hot (though he prefers selling and buying more... ) as everyone and everyone's mother is into it at the moment. No joke.
As the article says, housewives and students are doing it... and, worryingly, no one I speak to thinks they can lose.
All across Asia it's a baby boom - here's the first batch this year for Vietnam, as well as an explanation... basically the Year of Pig is considered a good, lucky year for having a kid anyway (in Vietnam, Korea and China), but this Lunar Year is the GOLDEN YEAR OF THE PIG, which means it's qua duoc...
Plus, from last week, I missed this story in the Snooze
on the current mania for trading stocks:
"The VN-Index is hotter than my girlfriend," joked Xuan Phong, a bank official. .
Which means his girlfriend must be pretty hot (though he prefers selling and buying more... ) as everyone and everyone's mother is into it at the moment. No joke.
As the article says, housewives and students are doing it... and, worryingly, no one I speak to thinks they can lose.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
HCM Trail on the Cambodian side
Ex-Hanoian bon vivant Edward Pollard gave up the hedonistic pleasures of city life for a hammock in the jungle in Cambodge. He's quoted in this AP story titled "Rebirth in Cambodia: Wildlife on the Ho Chi Minh Trail is making a comeback"
Another recent AP brief writes that Edward's group, the Wildlife Conservation Society, has pledged to "boost tiger numbers by half across six Asian sites over the next 10 years". Estimates reckon "as few as 5,000 tigers survive in the wild in Asia, down from about 100,000 a century ago".
Go tiger.
Ex-Hanoian bon vivant Edward Pollard gave up the hedonistic pleasures of city life for a hammock in the jungle in Cambodge. He's quoted in this AP story titled "Rebirth in Cambodia: Wildlife on the Ho Chi Minh Trail is making a comeback"
Another recent AP brief writes that Edward's group, the Wildlife Conservation Society, has pledged to "boost tiger numbers by half across six Asian sites over the next 10 years". Estimates reckon "as few as 5,000 tigers survive in the wild in Asia, down from about 100,000 a century ago".
Go tiger.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
Sensationalist headline of the year
Thanh Nien runs a very peculiar story under a baffling headline.
It's not just the spelling ("People of Afro-decent com to Vietnam...", the whole article is, as those North Americans say in their quaint vernacular, pretty whack.
Plus, news just in, here comes the Vatican!
Thanh Nien runs a very peculiar story under a baffling headline.
It's not just the spelling ("People of Afro-decent com to Vietnam...", the whole article is, as those North Americans say in their quaint vernacular, pretty whack.
Plus, news just in, here comes the Vatican!
Nothing to do with Vietnam but...
History was made last week in Dublin - in all sorts of ways - with England playing Ireland in a rugby match at Croke Park, the home of Gaelic sports and a place where all other sports besides GAA ones were banned until recently. Rugby may not have been one of the "effeminate follies" T. W. Croke, the Archbishop of Cashel, was referring to in 1884 when he laid out his plans to restore Irish sports and shrug off English influences - he mentions "lawn-tennis, polo, croquet, cricket, and the like" - but still...
Here's the beeb's take on it (pre-match)if you're interested and a Guardian link on the fears over the singing of God Save The Queen, which was a pre-match concern.
Fittingly O'Gara and Shaggy showed their Gaelic football skills to finish the English off.
Been smiling all week.
History was made last week in Dublin - in all sorts of ways - with England playing Ireland in a rugby match at Croke Park, the home of Gaelic sports and a place where all other sports besides GAA ones were banned until recently. Rugby may not have been one of the "effeminate follies" T. W. Croke, the Archbishop of Cashel, was referring to in 1884 when he laid out his plans to restore Irish sports and shrug off English influences - he mentions "lawn-tennis, polo, croquet, cricket, and the like" - but still...
Here's the beeb's take on it (pre-match)if you're interested and a Guardian link on the fears over the singing of God Save The Queen, which was a pre-match concern.
Fittingly O'Gara and Shaggy showed their Gaelic football skills to finish the English off.
Been smiling all week.
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