You might think that in a Communist society, the government would want to take from the rich and give to the poor, but in Vietnam, it's the other way round. Take the case of...
I was nearly finished with my update of Danang for the new edition of the guide. I had checked out the Cham Museum and Cao Dai Temple to make sure there were no major changes, I had carefully marked on the map the location of new bridges crossing the river, including the spectacular, fire-breathing Dragon Bridge, and had stood on the 20th floor of the new Grand Mercure and Novotel hotels, listening to PR reps wax lyrical about the benefits of spending £150 a night to sleep in their rooms perched high above the city. I had also found some new restaurants that cater to Westerners' tastes, and a couple of reasonable mini hotels to recommend for people looking for mid-range accommodation. All I needed was a hostel or some cheap lodging to list for backpackers, who are now visiting Vietnam in droves, before I could head off to Hoi An, one of my favourite towns in the entire country.
‘Tis a strange island, shaped like a pregnant woman dipping her toes in the sea, where I happened to be born.
It seems especially strange to me, having lived in voluntary exile abroad for nearly 40 years, and only popping back for short visits to see family and friends every few years. I always leave bemused by recent developments and wondering where this country is headed.
This visit is no exception. Though the climate and countryside is familiar enough, the towns and people wandering the streets are oddly alien. The high street of Maidenhead, my home town, is a commercial wasteland, a windy corridor bordered by charity shops and empty premises, which are now brightly decorated with artwork extolling the town’s merits, compared with white-washed windows on my last visit. Meanwhile the people I pass are speaking Polish, Romanian, Urdu, Hungarian, Russian or Chinese—anything, it seems, but English.
As the world waits anxiously for the Diamond Jubilee celebrations in June to commemorate Queen Elizabeth II’s 60 years on the throne, our budding blogger reveals a crack in the psyche of the so-called United Kingdom. It’s called
THE BRITISH MONARCHY SCHIZOID SYNDROME
We Brits are an odd bunch when it comes to our views on the Royal Family. On the one hand, it’s not unusual to hear us ranting in pubs or at parties about the preposterous privileges that they enjoy, or how they should know what it’s like to do a hard day’s work or to do their shopping at Sainsbury’s. On the other hand, when a Royal Wedding or Jubilee comes around, we go all gooey and gaga, saying silly stuff like “Isn’t she sweet? Doesn’t she look lovely?” No doubt the occasion of Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee, from 2-5 June 2012, will be another such occasion, when we all bury the hatchet for a few days, smile at our neighbours and act like life’s one big party.
is a British writer and photographer based in Chiang Mai, Thailand.