Description
After exploring Taiwan, do you want to keep following Seb’s wanderings? The adventure continues in Vietnam, with scams, unlikely encounters, karaoke, alcohol, and confrontations.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
After spending six months in Taiwan, it was time for a change of scenery. With excitement and my ever-present thirst for discovery, understanding and hope and mindedness, I set off for Vietnam. All the people I met will remain anonymous and their names have been changed. Welcome to this new adventure. Keep Your Wings, Le Podcast. Chapter 1: In the hell of the cities, I slip away. After some hectic final weeks on the beautiful island of Formosa, I thought I'd get a bit of a rest by heading to Vietnam. But, as usual, my legendary optimism got the better of me. The moment I arrived at immigration, I was surprised by the large number of people requesting a visa on arrival. Armed with my invitation letter, passport photos and a few US dollars, I quickly filled out the information form and handed it in after queuing for almost 30 minutes. Still... It would take at least another hour before the visa was finally stamped into my passport. A real pain, and quite a challenge. Recognizing your name when pronounced with a Vietnamese accent is not an easy task. Once those exhausting formalities were over, I headed out to find my hostel, which, I must admit, was quite cheap. I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam's largest city. Economically speaking, it leads the country. More so than the capital Hanoi. It was hotter than Taiwan, at least hotter than Taipei, but also more stifling. The humidity and mosquito were out in full force and will accompany me throughout April 2017. First impression? I'm definitely not in Taiwan anymore. Sure, it's crowded here too, but everything is different. The traffic is absolute chaos. People speak loudly. Vietnamese grace on my ear and I almost feel like I understand it thanks to my basic Chinese. But that's just an illusion. And the air is suffocating and polluted. Damn, where the hell did I land? Where's the nature all those Instagram influencers promised? Around me, hands reach out. Filled with jewelry, trinkets, wallets, belts, fake perfume.
Cheat, cheat.
Someone yells in my ear. No thank you.
Come on, you buy. You have money.
No, I don't need it. I keep insisting. Then come the stairs. Piercing stairs from street vendors will look at me if I just had murdered their families. These constant attacks wear me down. It's impossible to walk 2 meters without being called out, grabbed by the arm and bother. It's a damn nightmare. Another horn blare. Again. It's been a non-stop fanfare since I arrived. Honestly, if you don't hear honking, it means no one's around. Which never happens in Ho Chi Minh City. The city buzzes 24x7. Forced to buy a new phone cable after losing mine, I ended up wandering the city in search of a phone shop. Not the first, and certainly not the last time. The storefront was gaudy, blasting, defeating music. But I decided to go in anyway. Inside, hostesses were busy assisting customer. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were dressed like cheap escorts, all branded in matching color, mini skirts and high heels, parading from hail to hail to help customers looking for phones or accessories.
Hello, handsome foreigner, can I help you?
One of them asked with a heavy Vietnamese accent. Hi, I'm looking for a charging cable for my phone.
Show me your phone.
Here it is, I replied, handing over the device. She examined it, gave me one last seductive look and went to fetch the cable. Looking around, I noticed more male customers were more focused on the size of the woman's breasts than the product on display.
You'd only want more by three. Very good price.
Shouted another salesgirl, swinging in front of a group of testosterone-filled British backpackers. I chuckled to myself but quickly realized how overtly sexual marketing is in Vietnam. Advertisement, hostesses in restaurants or shops. The shorter the skirt, the higher the bill, it seems. My own busty salesgirl tried to convince me to buy a second backup cable. But I refused. I finally left the store and headed back to my hotel to charge my phone. On my way back, a motorbike suddenly stopped just inches from me. I stepped back and kept walking along our chimney's dusty sidewalks.
Hi, how are you?
A smiling Vietnamese man asked. Very well, and you?
I'm good, thank you. My name is Max, and yours?
Sébastien. I'm from Belgium. I had it. Anticipating his next question.
He's jubbling at you. I'm a tour guide. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask.
Oh, thanks.
Have you heard about the Cucci Tunos?
Yeah, I heard about them on my way to the hostel. A travel agency was offering a tour for 400,000 dong, about 15.20 euros.
Yeah, it's true that's cheap. If you like tourist draft, it's probably a good deal, but you seem a bit smarter than that.
What are you offering?
A personalized and unique tour. A motorbike ride there, guided visiting through it, and lunch in local restaurant. If you're unsure, check out this notebook. You speak Dutch, right?
Max handed me a thick notebook and flipped through the pages. French, I reply. He searched a bit longer and handed me a page surprisingly written in my native language.
These are comments led by people I've met.
There are a lot, I reply, scanning the yellow pages. Comments in different languages. English, French, Dutch, Swedish, Chinese, Japanese. I was impressed, though still slightly on guard.
What do you think? Interested?
I'll think about it and I'll let you know. Do you have a phone number?
Want to chat a bit more? Let's have a coffee, I'll give you more details.
Mmm, why not? After all, I came here to discover new things, meet locals, and challenge my fears and assumptions. I decided to trust Max, even though I didn't know him at all. He seemed nice, if a bit pushy. I hopped on the back of his bike and halfway went into the heart of the city. Dodging pedestrians, stray cats, horse-drawn cars, And a overwhelming number of scooters Oh, while I prayed, I wasn't heading into a trap.
Description
After exploring Taiwan, do you want to keep following Seb’s wanderings? The adventure continues in Vietnam, with scams, unlikely encounters, karaoke, alcohol, and confrontations.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
After spending six months in Taiwan, it was time for a change of scenery. With excitement and my ever-present thirst for discovery, understanding and hope and mindedness, I set off for Vietnam. All the people I met will remain anonymous and their names have been changed. Welcome to this new adventure. Keep Your Wings, Le Podcast. Chapter 1: In the hell of the cities, I slip away. After some hectic final weeks on the beautiful island of Formosa, I thought I'd get a bit of a rest by heading to Vietnam. But, as usual, my legendary optimism got the better of me. The moment I arrived at immigration, I was surprised by the large number of people requesting a visa on arrival. Armed with my invitation letter, passport photos and a few US dollars, I quickly filled out the information form and handed it in after queuing for almost 30 minutes. Still... It would take at least another hour before the visa was finally stamped into my passport. A real pain, and quite a challenge. Recognizing your name when pronounced with a Vietnamese accent is not an easy task. Once those exhausting formalities were over, I headed out to find my hostel, which, I must admit, was quite cheap. I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam's largest city. Economically speaking, it leads the country. More so than the capital Hanoi. It was hotter than Taiwan, at least hotter than Taipei, but also more stifling. The humidity and mosquito were out in full force and will accompany me throughout April 2017. First impression? I'm definitely not in Taiwan anymore. Sure, it's crowded here too, but everything is different. The traffic is absolute chaos. People speak loudly. Vietnamese grace on my ear and I almost feel like I understand it thanks to my basic Chinese. But that's just an illusion. And the air is suffocating and polluted. Damn, where the hell did I land? Where's the nature all those Instagram influencers promised? Around me, hands reach out. Filled with jewelry, trinkets, wallets, belts, fake perfume.
Cheat, cheat.
Someone yells in my ear. No thank you.
Come on, you buy. You have money.
No, I don't need it. I keep insisting. Then come the stairs. Piercing stairs from street vendors will look at me if I just had murdered their families. These constant attacks wear me down. It's impossible to walk 2 meters without being called out, grabbed by the arm and bother. It's a damn nightmare. Another horn blare. Again. It's been a non-stop fanfare since I arrived. Honestly, if you don't hear honking, it means no one's around. Which never happens in Ho Chi Minh City. The city buzzes 24x7. Forced to buy a new phone cable after losing mine, I ended up wandering the city in search of a phone shop. Not the first, and certainly not the last time. The storefront was gaudy, blasting, defeating music. But I decided to go in anyway. Inside, hostesses were busy assisting customer. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were dressed like cheap escorts, all branded in matching color, mini skirts and high heels, parading from hail to hail to help customers looking for phones or accessories.
Hello, handsome foreigner, can I help you?
One of them asked with a heavy Vietnamese accent. Hi, I'm looking for a charging cable for my phone.
Show me your phone.
Here it is, I replied, handing over the device. She examined it, gave me one last seductive look and went to fetch the cable. Looking around, I noticed more male customers were more focused on the size of the woman's breasts than the product on display.
You'd only want more by three. Very good price.
Shouted another salesgirl, swinging in front of a group of testosterone-filled British backpackers. I chuckled to myself but quickly realized how overtly sexual marketing is in Vietnam. Advertisement, hostesses in restaurants or shops. The shorter the skirt, the higher the bill, it seems. My own busty salesgirl tried to convince me to buy a second backup cable. But I refused. I finally left the store and headed back to my hotel to charge my phone. On my way back, a motorbike suddenly stopped just inches from me. I stepped back and kept walking along our chimney's dusty sidewalks.
Hi, how are you?
A smiling Vietnamese man asked. Very well, and you?
I'm good, thank you. My name is Max, and yours?
Sébastien. I'm from Belgium. I had it. Anticipating his next question.
He's jubbling at you. I'm a tour guide. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask.
Oh, thanks.
Have you heard about the Cucci Tunos?
Yeah, I heard about them on my way to the hostel. A travel agency was offering a tour for 400,000 dong, about 15.20 euros.
Yeah, it's true that's cheap. If you like tourist draft, it's probably a good deal, but you seem a bit smarter than that.
What are you offering?
A personalized and unique tour. A motorbike ride there, guided visiting through it, and lunch in local restaurant. If you're unsure, check out this notebook. You speak Dutch, right?
Max handed me a thick notebook and flipped through the pages. French, I reply. He searched a bit longer and handed me a page surprisingly written in my native language.
These are comments led by people I've met.
There are a lot, I reply, scanning the yellow pages. Comments in different languages. English, French, Dutch, Swedish, Chinese, Japanese. I was impressed, though still slightly on guard.
What do you think? Interested?
I'll think about it and I'll let you know. Do you have a phone number?
Want to chat a bit more? Let's have a coffee, I'll give you more details.
Mmm, why not? After all, I came here to discover new things, meet locals, and challenge my fears and assumptions. I decided to trust Max, even though I didn't know him at all. He seemed nice, if a bit pushy. I hopped on the back of his bike and halfway went into the heart of the city. Dodging pedestrians, stray cats, horse-drawn cars, And a overwhelming number of scooters Oh, while I prayed, I wasn't heading into a trap.
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Description
After exploring Taiwan, do you want to keep following Seb’s wanderings? The adventure continues in Vietnam, with scams, unlikely encounters, karaoke, alcohol, and confrontations.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
After spending six months in Taiwan, it was time for a change of scenery. With excitement and my ever-present thirst for discovery, understanding and hope and mindedness, I set off for Vietnam. All the people I met will remain anonymous and their names have been changed. Welcome to this new adventure. Keep Your Wings, Le Podcast. Chapter 1: In the hell of the cities, I slip away. After some hectic final weeks on the beautiful island of Formosa, I thought I'd get a bit of a rest by heading to Vietnam. But, as usual, my legendary optimism got the better of me. The moment I arrived at immigration, I was surprised by the large number of people requesting a visa on arrival. Armed with my invitation letter, passport photos and a few US dollars, I quickly filled out the information form and handed it in after queuing for almost 30 minutes. Still... It would take at least another hour before the visa was finally stamped into my passport. A real pain, and quite a challenge. Recognizing your name when pronounced with a Vietnamese accent is not an easy task. Once those exhausting formalities were over, I headed out to find my hostel, which, I must admit, was quite cheap. I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam's largest city. Economically speaking, it leads the country. More so than the capital Hanoi. It was hotter than Taiwan, at least hotter than Taipei, but also more stifling. The humidity and mosquito were out in full force and will accompany me throughout April 2017. First impression? I'm definitely not in Taiwan anymore. Sure, it's crowded here too, but everything is different. The traffic is absolute chaos. People speak loudly. Vietnamese grace on my ear and I almost feel like I understand it thanks to my basic Chinese. But that's just an illusion. And the air is suffocating and polluted. Damn, where the hell did I land? Where's the nature all those Instagram influencers promised? Around me, hands reach out. Filled with jewelry, trinkets, wallets, belts, fake perfume.
Cheat, cheat.
Someone yells in my ear. No thank you.
Come on, you buy. You have money.
No, I don't need it. I keep insisting. Then come the stairs. Piercing stairs from street vendors will look at me if I just had murdered their families. These constant attacks wear me down. It's impossible to walk 2 meters without being called out, grabbed by the arm and bother. It's a damn nightmare. Another horn blare. Again. It's been a non-stop fanfare since I arrived. Honestly, if you don't hear honking, it means no one's around. Which never happens in Ho Chi Minh City. The city buzzes 24x7. Forced to buy a new phone cable after losing mine, I ended up wandering the city in search of a phone shop. Not the first, and certainly not the last time. The storefront was gaudy, blasting, defeating music. But I decided to go in anyway. Inside, hostesses were busy assisting customer. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were dressed like cheap escorts, all branded in matching color, mini skirts and high heels, parading from hail to hail to help customers looking for phones or accessories.
Hello, handsome foreigner, can I help you?
One of them asked with a heavy Vietnamese accent. Hi, I'm looking for a charging cable for my phone.
Show me your phone.
Here it is, I replied, handing over the device. She examined it, gave me one last seductive look and went to fetch the cable. Looking around, I noticed more male customers were more focused on the size of the woman's breasts than the product on display.
You'd only want more by three. Very good price.
Shouted another salesgirl, swinging in front of a group of testosterone-filled British backpackers. I chuckled to myself but quickly realized how overtly sexual marketing is in Vietnam. Advertisement, hostesses in restaurants or shops. The shorter the skirt, the higher the bill, it seems. My own busty salesgirl tried to convince me to buy a second backup cable. But I refused. I finally left the store and headed back to my hotel to charge my phone. On my way back, a motorbike suddenly stopped just inches from me. I stepped back and kept walking along our chimney's dusty sidewalks.
Hi, how are you?
A smiling Vietnamese man asked. Very well, and you?
I'm good, thank you. My name is Max, and yours?
Sébastien. I'm from Belgium. I had it. Anticipating his next question.
He's jubbling at you. I'm a tour guide. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask.
Oh, thanks.
Have you heard about the Cucci Tunos?
Yeah, I heard about them on my way to the hostel. A travel agency was offering a tour for 400,000 dong, about 15.20 euros.
Yeah, it's true that's cheap. If you like tourist draft, it's probably a good deal, but you seem a bit smarter than that.
What are you offering?
A personalized and unique tour. A motorbike ride there, guided visiting through it, and lunch in local restaurant. If you're unsure, check out this notebook. You speak Dutch, right?
Max handed me a thick notebook and flipped through the pages. French, I reply. He searched a bit longer and handed me a page surprisingly written in my native language.
These are comments led by people I've met.
There are a lot, I reply, scanning the yellow pages. Comments in different languages. English, French, Dutch, Swedish, Chinese, Japanese. I was impressed, though still slightly on guard.
What do you think? Interested?
I'll think about it and I'll let you know. Do you have a phone number?
Want to chat a bit more? Let's have a coffee, I'll give you more details.
Mmm, why not? After all, I came here to discover new things, meet locals, and challenge my fears and assumptions. I decided to trust Max, even though I didn't know him at all. He seemed nice, if a bit pushy. I hopped on the back of his bike and halfway went into the heart of the city. Dodging pedestrians, stray cats, horse-drawn cars, And a overwhelming number of scooters Oh, while I prayed, I wasn't heading into a trap.
Description
After exploring Taiwan, do you want to keep following Seb’s wanderings? The adventure continues in Vietnam, with scams, unlikely encounters, karaoke, alcohol, and confrontations.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
After spending six months in Taiwan, it was time for a change of scenery. With excitement and my ever-present thirst for discovery, understanding and hope and mindedness, I set off for Vietnam. All the people I met will remain anonymous and their names have been changed. Welcome to this new adventure. Keep Your Wings, Le Podcast. Chapter 1: In the hell of the cities, I slip away. After some hectic final weeks on the beautiful island of Formosa, I thought I'd get a bit of a rest by heading to Vietnam. But, as usual, my legendary optimism got the better of me. The moment I arrived at immigration, I was surprised by the large number of people requesting a visa on arrival. Armed with my invitation letter, passport photos and a few US dollars, I quickly filled out the information form and handed it in after queuing for almost 30 minutes. Still... It would take at least another hour before the visa was finally stamped into my passport. A real pain, and quite a challenge. Recognizing your name when pronounced with a Vietnamese accent is not an easy task. Once those exhausting formalities were over, I headed out to find my hostel, which, I must admit, was quite cheap. I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam's largest city. Economically speaking, it leads the country. More so than the capital Hanoi. It was hotter than Taiwan, at least hotter than Taipei, but also more stifling. The humidity and mosquito were out in full force and will accompany me throughout April 2017. First impression? I'm definitely not in Taiwan anymore. Sure, it's crowded here too, but everything is different. The traffic is absolute chaos. People speak loudly. Vietnamese grace on my ear and I almost feel like I understand it thanks to my basic Chinese. But that's just an illusion. And the air is suffocating and polluted. Damn, where the hell did I land? Where's the nature all those Instagram influencers promised? Around me, hands reach out. Filled with jewelry, trinkets, wallets, belts, fake perfume.
Cheat, cheat.
Someone yells in my ear. No thank you.
Come on, you buy. You have money.
No, I don't need it. I keep insisting. Then come the stairs. Piercing stairs from street vendors will look at me if I just had murdered their families. These constant attacks wear me down. It's impossible to walk 2 meters without being called out, grabbed by the arm and bother. It's a damn nightmare. Another horn blare. Again. It's been a non-stop fanfare since I arrived. Honestly, if you don't hear honking, it means no one's around. Which never happens in Ho Chi Minh City. The city buzzes 24x7. Forced to buy a new phone cable after losing mine, I ended up wandering the city in search of a phone shop. Not the first, and certainly not the last time. The storefront was gaudy, blasting, defeating music. But I decided to go in anyway. Inside, hostesses were busy assisting customer. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were dressed like cheap escorts, all branded in matching color, mini skirts and high heels, parading from hail to hail to help customers looking for phones or accessories.
Hello, handsome foreigner, can I help you?
One of them asked with a heavy Vietnamese accent. Hi, I'm looking for a charging cable for my phone.
Show me your phone.
Here it is, I replied, handing over the device. She examined it, gave me one last seductive look and went to fetch the cable. Looking around, I noticed more male customers were more focused on the size of the woman's breasts than the product on display.
You'd only want more by three. Very good price.
Shouted another salesgirl, swinging in front of a group of testosterone-filled British backpackers. I chuckled to myself but quickly realized how overtly sexual marketing is in Vietnam. Advertisement, hostesses in restaurants or shops. The shorter the skirt, the higher the bill, it seems. My own busty salesgirl tried to convince me to buy a second backup cable. But I refused. I finally left the store and headed back to my hotel to charge my phone. On my way back, a motorbike suddenly stopped just inches from me. I stepped back and kept walking along our chimney's dusty sidewalks.
Hi, how are you?
A smiling Vietnamese man asked. Very well, and you?
I'm good, thank you. My name is Max, and yours?
Sébastien. I'm from Belgium. I had it. Anticipating his next question.
He's jubbling at you. I'm a tour guide. If you need any advice, don't hesitate to ask.
Oh, thanks.
Have you heard about the Cucci Tunos?
Yeah, I heard about them on my way to the hostel. A travel agency was offering a tour for 400,000 dong, about 15.20 euros.
Yeah, it's true that's cheap. If you like tourist draft, it's probably a good deal, but you seem a bit smarter than that.
What are you offering?
A personalized and unique tour. A motorbike ride there, guided visiting through it, and lunch in local restaurant. If you're unsure, check out this notebook. You speak Dutch, right?
Max handed me a thick notebook and flipped through the pages. French, I reply. He searched a bit longer and handed me a page surprisingly written in my native language.
These are comments led by people I've met.
There are a lot, I reply, scanning the yellow pages. Comments in different languages. English, French, Dutch, Swedish, Chinese, Japanese. I was impressed, though still slightly on guard.
What do you think? Interested?
I'll think about it and I'll let you know. Do you have a phone number?
Want to chat a bit more? Let's have a coffee, I'll give you more details.
Mmm, why not? After all, I came here to discover new things, meet locals, and challenge my fears and assumptions. I decided to trust Max, even though I didn't know him at all. He seemed nice, if a bit pushy. I hopped on the back of his bike and halfway went into the heart of the city. Dodging pedestrians, stray cats, horse-drawn cars, And a overwhelming number of scooters Oh, while I prayed, I wasn't heading into a trap.
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