A quick, or perhaps not, update as I’ve not posted in a few days. Mainly as I have been busy. Getting drunk. If one can class that as busy. The rest of the time I’ve been recovering from being drunk.

Oh, and being robbed. But I’ll get to that.

The photo at the top of the page is my room, by the way. I’ve been here long enough and kind of claimed part of it as my own. You may take a wild guess as to which bed is mine. The rest are from the back of a bike on the way back from Blue Dragon to Hoan Kiem lake. I’m somewhat used to the trips now, so taking snaps willy nilly while on the back of one of these deathtraps convenient modes of transport seemed like a good idea. I may try and take a short video of a ride through rush hour sometime.

The last week’s been a bit of a chill-out to be honest. The sunburn is now slowly peeling off to the point where Max no longer goes “GAH! IAIN!” every time I get off one of the chairs downstairs and leave flaky souvenirs.

The weather has followed its usual pattern of being completely the opposite of what the BBC claims it is. The last three days have been torrentially rainy, but still nicely warm. Waking home at 2am in the rain, drenched and still comfortable temperaturewise with no hint of a chill is very relaxing! I know the UK needs a few thunderstorms to clear the air. Enjoy them when they arrive!

 OK, well on Thursday night a bunch of us went out for a couple of beers. The hostel was full and buzzing. A great collection of people from all over, so we headed for the usual Bia Hoi and arrived in small groups. Eventually there were maybe 15 of us sat around chatting and having a great time. When they closed shop, we walked a few doors up to the “Red Mask” bar, which was pleasant enough and after an hour someone suggested a club they’d heard about called “New Century”.

By this point I was nicely pliable and we all jumped on bikes to get there (I talked mine right down to less than anyone else – I’m getting good at this haggling lark). Upon arrival we encountered the Vietnamese version of the bouncer – a man in uniform who wouldn’t let us in because two of our group were wearing shorts.

We protested – and offered to bribe him – but he refused until the manageress appeared and told us “this time!” probably because we were foreign and therefore had money.

The club itself was absolutely not my type of place. THUMP THUMP dance music, Vietnamese women who were very interested in having me buy them drinks and devoid of all atmosphere. Despite a heaving dancefloor (the place was packed) there were maybe 20 people actually dancing.

 Regardless, we stayed there for a couple of hours and decided it was hometime at around 4am. Stumbling outside, we realised that although we were close to the hostel we didn’t have a clue exactly where we were, so we flagged down a cab.

About 4 corners and maybe three city blocks later, the cab stopped. I knew we were close, but not that close!

As I exited the cab, a Vietnamese woman lurched out of the dark telling me things like “me love you” and “you come with me” while she grabbed parts of my anatomy that I reserve for very private moments, even going so far as to undo my trousers. I battled her off, but as soon as I stepped into the hostel I realised it wasn’t that package she had been after.

My wallet was gone.

Now, I’m not completely stupid. Thankfully, I only carry the bare minimum of cards and the like with me so all my credit cards and my spare cashcard were safely locked in the hostel. My YHA card was replaced (free of charge) by Max once I realised that had gone. But I had that very day withdrawn the cash needed to pay my accomodation bill to date. Roughly 3 million dong. Give or take, after the money I’d spent that night, £100. Plus about £30 in Singapore dollars. And 20 Baht. OK, that’s not much, but it’s the principle. And then there was my bus ticket from Auckland airport to the city centre. Again, not much, but the principle. Oh, and my passport photos so I need some more of them done for my visa renewal.

It’s all these little things. The cash is just cash. It’s gone. I only hope she buys some really dodgy drugs with it and dies an awful, painful death in the gutter. I’m not the forgiving type. The inconvenience is minor as I did have the forethought to separate my cards and the like, but it does mean until I get my replacement card I can’t move on, so I’m now in Hanoi for at least a week longer than I intended. The Nationwide told me “7 to 10 working days” to get the card to my parents’, who then need to send it on to me. When I get it, I’ll have to call a number to activate it and Skype currently seem hard-set on making it as near impossible as they can for me to add credit to my account.

 So on the whole, not a great night. Although Max didn’t charge me for the window I punched out in frustration, though in fairness it was a very small window.

However, my faith in human nature has been restored over the following days. Two girls I didn’t know bought me lunch the next day. A guy from Singapore loaned me enough to go out that night and have dinner and a few beers. An expat at Barracuda bought me a couple of beers. Another girl loaned me enough to buy some food at the supermarket (including some “Jam Donuts” which were lacking one of the named ingredients – the jam; and some “Ham Buger” rolls – interesting misprint). Max at the hostel offered me a free loan until I was sorted for cash, as did Mike from Blue Dragon.

To all of them – thank you. The cash loans have now been paid back and when the girls get back from their Sapa trip tonight I will repay the favour and get them dinner. It took just over a day to transfer money from one account into another, but I now have plenty to do me until the cashcard arrives.

In a money-saving bid, and because the rain’s been unreal, I have spent some time in the balcony bar watching DVDs. Yesterday was a challenge as the rain was so heavy at one point that despite having the volume on full and only being a few feet from the TV, the soundtrack was inaudible. For the record, Doom is passable, Starsky and Hutch has its moments and Dodgeball is way better than I thought it would be and heartily recommended. I’ll keep my eyes open for Miami Vice and Snakes On A Plane over the next week or so.

Back to the web pages, folks. My deadline for the site is Tuesday. Wish me luck… 

I woke this morning having slept very badly. Each time I rolled over, even with lovely soft clean sheets, it felt like someone was rubbing my back with sandpaper. Ouch. As a result, I was utterly pooped so cried off work and instead sat at the hostel and worked on Blue Dragon’s web pages. They’re coming along nicely – thanks for asking.

I did pop out very briefly for lunch, just to Pepperoni’s and back, and even in the 200m or so that I covered I could feel my head turning crispy. I can’t put a cap on as my forehead is too painful!

In the afternoon, I took a short break and watched Dukes of Hazzard upstairs with Mike and Max (and half a bar of Cadbury’s I brought back from NZ). Cracking film! Really brings the old series up to date, though it’s not quite so family-friendly.

Later in the evening I started to get peckish and gathered myself up two lovely German girls (Celine and her friend – I apologise for forgetting her name) and we went to the City View. I’d already had a burger for lunch, so I decided on the fried rice with seasonal fruit and veg. And it was superb. Utterly gorgeous. My only complaint was that I wanted more, it was so nice!

The girls went back to the hostel after dinner to wait for a friend who was putting them up for the next couple of nights and I walked the other direction to buy some more DVDs – as if I need them.

There’s a little shop very close to the Bia Hoi area where I buy most of my discs, so I went in there, sat on one of the little stools and begin flipping through the packets. I was after three titles in particular, but as usual I kept spotting more that appealed.

I’d found one when there was a huge series of bangs and flashes immediately across the street from where I was sat. No more than 10 yards from me, a major electrical junction box had exploded. Majorly. In a major way.

It continued to sizzle as the other English man and I in the shop exchanged comments along the lines of “Blimey heck, guv’nor” only with more swearing. The young girl who ran the shop said something about people or children pouring water into it, but I’m not sure if I misunderstood her. She was cowering behind a very small plastic chair at the time.

Then it errupted again. Much more spectacularly. And all the lights went out across the entire block. Discretion being the better part of valour, and having seen enough films with people in electric chairs that I didn’t want to try something similar first hand, I decided that I would – in technical terms – run like hell. As I reached the end of the street, the box let loose another furious tirade of rockets and sparklers as flames and smoke started to pour from it.

One brave/stupid soul jumped into his BMW that was parked right in front of the box and managed to drive it away. Given that insurance is pretty much unheard of here, I can’t say I blame him. I’m sure the paintwork on one side will have been damaged enough. Spurred by his bravery/lunacy, about a dozen more people approached to get a collection of mopeds out of the way of the spreading fire. As they were backing away, once more the box let loose with a huge series of cracks and sparks.

The mopeds were forgotten.

After maybe ten minutes had passed, there was till no sign of any official presence – certainly no fire trucks. An English woman – I’m fairly sure from Yorkshire by her accent – asked me why someone wasn’t putting it out. Well, duh. It’s an electrical fire – you can’t chuck water on it and I can’t see the premises nearby being armed with CO2 (class C) extinguishers. Likewise this wasn’t Baking Powder Street, so that wasn’t an option either.

Instead the crowd lingered, now safely from either end of the 100m-long street and watched as the lower box fed flames to the larger metallic box which in turn started to burn ferociously. I started to eye the cables above warily as the flames were getting very high. This was the point where I thought I better leave. If those cables came down, the next pole they were attached to was at the end of the street. There would be every chance they’d swing down pretty much near where I was.

I left.

And I hadn’t had my camera on me. Gah! That would have made some great video footage as well. I arrived at the hostel like a little kid who’d been to a fireworks display. I even did all the sound effects.

But the fun for the night was not yet over. One of two new arrivals popped up to her room, then came straight back down to say that the door was locked. They have those little buttons on the inside of the handle, and we’re not issued keys as they’re not really meant to be locked. These locks seemed to be brilliant and they looked just like the ones at https://locksmithlasvegas247.com/.

She sat on the stairs, looking a bit miserable as one of the night staff wandered around trying to find things. First he came down with a screwdriver and tried to pick the lock. Badly. Then he tried shoulder charging it. Eventually, they found some keys, but by this stage the lock was knackered, so the keys wouldn’t turn. Back to the shoulder method.

Our conversation was along the lines of:

“Hi, have you just *BANG* arrived?”

“Yes, *BANG* we just came in from *BANG* Ho Chi *BANG* Minh City.”

.

.

.

[some time later]

“I really don’t *BANG* think he’s *BANG* going to break *BANG* that door open *BANG* *TEAR* *CRASH*. Well, what do you know.”

Needless to say, the lock needs replaced. I think they’re planning on putting in handles without buttons on this time.

I’m likely preaching to the converted here, but “ignore the BBC Weather reports – they’re complete rubbish”. Last weekend was supposed to be clear skies and over 40 degrees. It was cloudy and around 33. This weekend is supposed to be sunny spells around thunderstorms for 4 days. It’s over 40 degrees and there hasn’t been a cloud sighted in 72 hours. I think they’re scared of getting sunburn.

Today was footie day and I was on the losing side, though I’d like to protest to FIFA regarding the tactic of having the referee play for one of the sides. I have a feeling my pleas to Mr Blatter will fall on deaf ears as I’m not suggesting hotpants for female footballers – a matter much closer to his heart (and other organs).

In fairness the aforementioned referee, Tho, paid for my lunch and also took me to a nearby swimming pool. In exchange for re-teaching me how to swim, I taught him and Tung how to dive. As I said, though, it was blazing hot and by the time we left I could almost feel my skin starting to blister. I definitely burned my feet on the tiles. Without flipflops it was impossible to walk more than maybe five metres without smoke starting to pour from between my toes.

The pool was very nice. Naturally heated by the sunlight with a large shallow area for kids attached to a separate 25m rectangular area for the older folk. The two were joined by a small channel with a bridge over it. I laughed at the Vietnamese who spent most of their time hiding under the bridge. And was paid back for my laughter with a nasty dose of sunburn. Ouch.

I spent the afternoon recovering, smearing aftersun into myself, reading and watching Slayer DVDs on the balcony bar. Sat in the shade this time, of course.