red dust & bloodshot eyes
so after encountering so much art upon arriving in saigon, i missed the swedish artist's opening after all. i did, however, make it to see her sculpture the day before leaving saigon. once you entered the front door, you were inside the installation: along with a gigantic tunnel snaking throughout the two-story space, sharp things covered the walls and furniture. there was a small telephone table with a stool in front of it covered with nails. the fridge was surfaced in tacks. saws and knives covered the tables and chairs. i talked with her at some length about it, mistakenly thinking the whole idea was a statement on the cu chi tunnels near saigon. in fact, the sculpture was originally inspired by those tunnels, but it's more a statement of the dangers inside the home and how loaded with traps a home can be. always interested in how artists make their livings, i found out that she moved in with her parents temporarily and sold tires in stockholm in order to save up the money to put together this particular show... which was also an interesting conversation.
so after researching around saigon and avoiding traffic accidents, i took a short holiday/research trip to phu quoc island. i went there two years ago on a long mekong delta trip with the most annoying guide ever (cockney jokes told over and over and then ten more times for good measure, cigarettes smoked with a long, skinny filter more appropriate for, i dunno, mae west), but this time i went with phuong and francois' dad's wife marisol and had a MUCH funner* time. instead of taking an eight-hour boat trip and having to dodge sloshing vomit on deck, we traveled in style - in a small plane. arriving this way, you can see the forest reserves below, a rare thing in vietnam where all the wood has been harvested for furniture or chopped down for firewood.
we were met at the airport by phuong's friend, who runs a little restaurant/bar with her french husband. we caught up with them for a little bit, gorged on a big vietnamese lunch on the beach - sweet & sour fish soup, rice, fried tuna with tomato sauce, and stir-fried veggies - and then passed out on the beach for several hours, swimming in the warm turquoise water now and then. dinner we had at the friend's bistro, followed by cocktails and pool and getting hit on by a very tall, drunk frenchman with a cauliflower nose. then to the one worthwhile bar on the island, and then to bed at the friend's house.
in the a.m. we rented a couple of motorbikes; phuong and marisol thought they'd tag along while i did research and they'd maybe find a good beach along the way and ditch me at some point. we started with a visit to a waterfall, which was pretty depressing as this is the dry season and no water was falling; even more sad was because, as is the vietnamese way, trash was strewn everywhere. plastic bags, empty beer cans, cardboard, remains of picnics and food wrappers littered the flat rocks and big boulders. we'd gotten lost along the way and taken some wrong turns, after which we'd picked up trash up the hiking trail and around the waterfall - so by this time we were sort of annoyed. then we headed up the red dirt road we thought led to a beach in the north, where i wanted to check out several resorts. again, we got lost and asked directions of some motorbike drivers hanging out on a corner. they wanted to show us, which meant we'd have to pay them, so we refused the offer. they waved us in one direction, telling phuong to turn this way and then that, and there we'd be.
half an hour later, covered in red dust and going in what appeared to be the wrong direction (towards mountain and forest rather than beach), we asked for more directions and found that we were on the right trail... later finding out that it did, indeed, lead to the same place we wanted but was about five times longer than the short way. vengeful motorbike drivers.
we looked at two resorts and lunched at the second (run by yet another french-vietnamese couple) at a table on the deserted, rocky beach of white sand and azure water. we trudged back up the steep hill to leave the resort and look at one more before deciding what to do next. at the third resort, i got taken to look at the beautiful bungalows with outdoor stone bathrooms and tall wooden-slat doors while phuong and marisol wandered the beach. then i chatted with the temporary manager, a hunted-looking, tanned brit raised in africa, and when i bid him goodbye had lost track of the girls. i scanned the beach and didn't find them and figured they'd probably just taken off since i'd taken so long. going back to the motorbike parking lot (a square of graded red dirt with a bamboo post-and-thatch skeleton around it), i thought i saw that their bike was gone. so i started mine back up and headed back down the dusty road. a few times i hit some really sandy sections and had moments of 'whoa. whoa! WHOOOOOAA!' but never fell down (woo!).
found out later that day that phuong & marisol were not so lucky. they'd seen me standing on some beachfront boulders and thought i was looking right at them, but when they got back i was already gone. just about half a kilometer from the resort, they hit some sand and crashed. after lying on the ground with the motorbike on top of them, laughing, they dusted themselves off and found that the bike had died. so on top of being exhausted, hot, bloody, and filthy, they were now stuck on the side of the deserted road. luckily, some guy came motoring by and happened to have a tool kit and happened to kindly stop and repair their bike, and then they happened to stumble on the shortcut back to town that i'd also found on my way home.
and that is not all!
after we'd all showered and had dinner at another guesthouse and had played a couple of games of pool at our home bistro, phuong's friend wanted to go out. she has two babies and runs the restaurant, and her husband isn't too into going out when phu quoc has very little to do. in short, she never gets a night on the town with girlfriends. so, as she was our gracious hostess and putting us up, we felt obligated to go out, exhausted as we were by the day's dusty driving. so we waited as she put the babies to bed, took a shower, got dressed, changed her outfit, and borrowed the neighbor's motorbike. the bike marisol and i took (hereafter called #1) had no headlight and the rustic island road is unlit. the bike phuong & friend took (#2) was the one that had crashed earlier in the day. so off we went together, bouncing up to the main road, and we got not a kilometer away when #2 stalled. phuong's friend got off so that phuong could attempt to kick-start it, to no avail. i half-hoped it wouldn't start so we could go home and sleep. phuong's friend left a message for her husband to come help us out. but phuong is a pro when it comes to motorbikes, and undid the fuse and messed around with the engine, kick-started a few more times, and it finally roared to life fifteen minutes later.
so off we went up the dusty island road and into town and to the vietnamese nightclub, which was closed. again, i hoped that this would end the evening so we could go to sleep (by now it was midnight and we had to get up at 6 for our flight). 'i guess we'll have to go to the rainbow bar,' said phuong's friend. so of course as we were about to leave, bike #2 died again. phuong, who has been through quite a lot in her 25 years and who rarely shows despair or frustration in trying times, was looking just about fed up as she kicked doggedly at the starter of the bike (in a skirt!). another fifteen minutes later, she got it going and off we headed to the rainbow bar. except: the friend spotted a SANDWICH CART on the corner and commanded phuong to stop. so as she's waiting for a sandwich, guess what? bike #2 died again. phuong actually came up to me, covering her face with her hands, and i thought she would cry.
but she mustered all her patience and grace and kicked at the starter some more. since we were on a street corner at midnight, there were lots of men hanging around who came over to try it themselves (because whenever you fail to start your motorbike, it means you're doing it wrong and they can do it better). no less than five men came over to try; none had any luck. then the friend's husband drove up, having received the message she'd left him half an hour before, and we all headed down the street with one helpful extra guy who pushed phuong's dead bike with his foot on one of the back footpegs, dropping her at the bar and driving off.
then we had a drink, phuong and i played exactly one game of pool with the dive instructors partying there who wiped the table with us, and then we all spent about two hours sitting around looking heavily bored as the friend chattered away with the bar owner. surely the friend would notice how tired we were and we'd leave after a drink or two. occasionally she turned to phuong and threw a smilingly oblivious comment her way but ignored the loaded looks we were giving her. compelled by obligation to stay, phuong and marisol chain-smoked and stared into space while i tried to make the best of things and grilled the bar owner about phu quoc details, which he rewarded with complaints that the guidebook was egregiously outdated and that more people needed to open more bars on the island. i smiled and nodded, drinking every cocktail he put in front of me, until FINALLY it was decided that we could leave.
we got three hours of sleep before heading to the airport, but the upside? no vomit!
* i know it's not a word. it's funner to use.
so after researching around saigon and avoiding traffic accidents, i took a short holiday/research trip to phu quoc island. i went there two years ago on a long mekong delta trip with the most annoying guide ever (cockney jokes told over and over and then ten more times for good measure, cigarettes smoked with a long, skinny filter more appropriate for, i dunno, mae west), but this time i went with phuong and francois' dad's wife marisol and had a MUCH funner* time. instead of taking an eight-hour boat trip and having to dodge sloshing vomit on deck, we traveled in style - in a small plane. arriving this way, you can see the forest reserves below, a rare thing in vietnam where all the wood has been harvested for furniture or chopped down for firewood.
we were met at the airport by phuong's friend, who runs a little restaurant/bar with her french husband. we caught up with them for a little bit, gorged on a big vietnamese lunch on the beach - sweet & sour fish soup, rice, fried tuna with tomato sauce, and stir-fried veggies - and then passed out on the beach for several hours, swimming in the warm turquoise water now and then. dinner we had at the friend's bistro, followed by cocktails and pool and getting hit on by a very tall, drunk frenchman with a cauliflower nose. then to the one worthwhile bar on the island, and then to bed at the friend's house.
in the a.m. we rented a couple of motorbikes; phuong and marisol thought they'd tag along while i did research and they'd maybe find a good beach along the way and ditch me at some point. we started with a visit to a waterfall, which was pretty depressing as this is the dry season and no water was falling; even more sad was because, as is the vietnamese way, trash was strewn everywhere. plastic bags, empty beer cans, cardboard, remains of picnics and food wrappers littered the flat rocks and big boulders. we'd gotten lost along the way and taken some wrong turns, after which we'd picked up trash up the hiking trail and around the waterfall - so by this time we were sort of annoyed. then we headed up the red dirt road we thought led to a beach in the north, where i wanted to check out several resorts. again, we got lost and asked directions of some motorbike drivers hanging out on a corner. they wanted to show us, which meant we'd have to pay them, so we refused the offer. they waved us in one direction, telling phuong to turn this way and then that, and there we'd be.
half an hour later, covered in red dust and going in what appeared to be the wrong direction (towards mountain and forest rather than beach), we asked for more directions and found that we were on the right trail... later finding out that it did, indeed, lead to the same place we wanted but was about five times longer than the short way. vengeful motorbike drivers.
we looked at two resorts and lunched at the second (run by yet another french-vietnamese couple) at a table on the deserted, rocky beach of white sand and azure water. we trudged back up the steep hill to leave the resort and look at one more before deciding what to do next. at the third resort, i got taken to look at the beautiful bungalows with outdoor stone bathrooms and tall wooden-slat doors while phuong and marisol wandered the beach. then i chatted with the temporary manager, a hunted-looking, tanned brit raised in africa, and when i bid him goodbye had lost track of the girls. i scanned the beach and didn't find them and figured they'd probably just taken off since i'd taken so long. going back to the motorbike parking lot (a square of graded red dirt with a bamboo post-and-thatch skeleton around it), i thought i saw that their bike was gone. so i started mine back up and headed back down the dusty road. a few times i hit some really sandy sections and had moments of 'whoa. whoa! WHOOOOOAA!' but never fell down (woo!).
found out later that day that phuong & marisol were not so lucky. they'd seen me standing on some beachfront boulders and thought i was looking right at them, but when they got back i was already gone. just about half a kilometer from the resort, they hit some sand and crashed. after lying on the ground with the motorbike on top of them, laughing, they dusted themselves off and found that the bike had died. so on top of being exhausted, hot, bloody, and filthy, they were now stuck on the side of the deserted road. luckily, some guy came motoring by and happened to have a tool kit and happened to kindly stop and repair their bike, and then they happened to stumble on the shortcut back to town that i'd also found on my way home.
and that is not all!
after we'd all showered and had dinner at another guesthouse and had played a couple of games of pool at our home bistro, phuong's friend wanted to go out. she has two babies and runs the restaurant, and her husband isn't too into going out when phu quoc has very little to do. in short, she never gets a night on the town with girlfriends. so, as she was our gracious hostess and putting us up, we felt obligated to go out, exhausted as we were by the day's dusty driving. so we waited as she put the babies to bed, took a shower, got dressed, changed her outfit, and borrowed the neighbor's motorbike. the bike marisol and i took (hereafter called #1) had no headlight and the rustic island road is unlit. the bike phuong & friend took (#2) was the one that had crashed earlier in the day. so off we went together, bouncing up to the main road, and we got not a kilometer away when #2 stalled. phuong's friend got off so that phuong could attempt to kick-start it, to no avail. i half-hoped it wouldn't start so we could go home and sleep. phuong's friend left a message for her husband to come help us out. but phuong is a pro when it comes to motorbikes, and undid the fuse and messed around with the engine, kick-started a few more times, and it finally roared to life fifteen minutes later.
so off we went up the dusty island road and into town and to the vietnamese nightclub, which was closed. again, i hoped that this would end the evening so we could go to sleep (by now it was midnight and we had to get up at 6 for our flight). 'i guess we'll have to go to the rainbow bar,' said phuong's friend. so of course as we were about to leave, bike #2 died again. phuong, who has been through quite a lot in her 25 years and who rarely shows despair or frustration in trying times, was looking just about fed up as she kicked doggedly at the starter of the bike (in a skirt!). another fifteen minutes later, she got it going and off we headed to the rainbow bar. except: the friend spotted a SANDWICH CART on the corner and commanded phuong to stop. so as she's waiting for a sandwich, guess what? bike #2 died again. phuong actually came up to me, covering her face with her hands, and i thought she would cry.
but she mustered all her patience and grace and kicked at the starter some more. since we were on a street corner at midnight, there were lots of men hanging around who came over to try it themselves (because whenever you fail to start your motorbike, it means you're doing it wrong and they can do it better). no less than five men came over to try; none had any luck. then the friend's husband drove up, having received the message she'd left him half an hour before, and we all headed down the street with one helpful extra guy who pushed phuong's dead bike with his foot on one of the back footpegs, dropping her at the bar and driving off.
then we had a drink, phuong and i played exactly one game of pool with the dive instructors partying there who wiped the table with us, and then we all spent about two hours sitting around looking heavily bored as the friend chattered away with the bar owner. surely the friend would notice how tired we were and we'd leave after a drink or two. occasionally she turned to phuong and threw a smilingly oblivious comment her way but ignored the loaded looks we were giving her. compelled by obligation to stay, phuong and marisol chain-smoked and stared into space while i tried to make the best of things and grilled the bar owner about phu quoc details, which he rewarded with complaints that the guidebook was egregiously outdated and that more people needed to open more bars on the island. i smiled and nodded, drinking every cocktail he put in front of me, until FINALLY it was decided that we could leave.
we got three hours of sleep before heading to the airport, but the upside? no vomit!
* i know it's not a word. it's funner to use.
posted by a wandering eye at 6:28 PM
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