Người hoà sắc

Every day has the potential for misunderstandings via language when you live in a foreign land and Vietnam and I are not strangers to these misunderstandings. My understanding is that Vietnamese is quite a black and white language where English has many nuances depending on how a word is said combined with the situation in which it is uttered. “I don’t care” doesn’t mean you have turned your back on humankind and “never” doesn’t quite mean never just “never” this time, my bad most times.

I love the English language and some consider me quite verbose. Why call someone a person who can’t make their mind when you can call them a ditherer. I give new words to the staff all of the time and recently they have included skullduggery, austerity, rickety, pernicious and today, ditherer. Today we had a surprising result, not only did 2 people learn a new word in English, neither of them had seen, used or been taught the Vietnamese word for ditherer, người hoà sắc, either.

Before I go further, I am using the easiest way to translate Vietnamese words into English, it’s for the English speaking readers. Have you ever worked in an office with three young ladies whose names were My (pronounced Me), Du (pronounced You) and Mai (pronounced My)? The conversation about what job everyone is doing can get quite Abbott and Costelloesque. “I told Du”, “no you didn’t, you told My”, “but that’s my job” etc., hilarity ensues.

The day finished on a bright note. For years, when local people, mainly taxi drivers have asked if I speak Vietnamese, my answer has been khong (no), mainly a blank look is received but occasionally one caught on and a stilted conversation followed. In the supermarket tonight, a Vietnamese mother (mẹ or in English mare) told her son to talk to me in English, he said no and asked me in Vietnamese did I speak Vietnamese. Being a kid, I gave him my full repertoire, “Tôi không nói tiếng Việt”. He got it and was in hysterics for the next 5 minutes that a foreigner would tell him in Vietnamese that he didn’t speak Vietnamese”. He then followed me around for the next 10 minutes asking more questions in the local lingo and was in constant fits of laughter with my replies, basic as they were. It was terrific that a young’n would use his imagination and work out what I was trying to tell him. The future is in good hands if most of his generation continues in the vein. He is definitely not a người hoà sắc.

Can you name the song that contains the word dithering?

Trocco

Introducing Trocco, my delta dog of questionable lineage but an unquestionable lack of brains. The reason we get on so well. He is however bi-lingual and sort of answers commands in both English and Vietnamese. Sort of.

Trocco (in English Chocco) was born on my front porch, his mother Mickey’s, second litter. I was glad she had her pups on the front porch, she had the first litter in my wardrobe. The day the other pups left for brighter climes, I grabbed Trocco to keep mainly as he was the runt of the litter, I mistakenly thought he would be well behaved. He was for a couple of months too but that soon changed.

My first inkling that this dog was some sort of freak was when I saw him lying at my feet one night when I was positive that I had put him outside. Next night I heard him scratching at the door when I was positive I had let him in. Trocco was messing with my head. Was he a canine Houdini? Was I losing my marble(s). Neither, Trocco appeared to be half kangaroo and half Walenda, jumping up about a metre in height, balancing on the window ledge and then climbing through the barred window. Getting outside was easier for him, he had a couch to climb on first before getting through the bars.

Fussy eater, not much. Given the choice of a juicy chicken breast, cooked or raw or a frozen chicken head, it’s the chicken head everytime. Loves ém.

His other favorite trick is to steal socks and jocks, only maroon jocks and light blue socks. If you are buying me a Christmas present anytime soon, steer clear of maroon jocks and light blue socks.

And that is Trocco and for all his foibles and annoying habits he is a great companion. If only I could get him to eat something other than chicken heads (frozen).

Chicken Salt

It looked like being another humdrum Sunday afternoon. The Colac races had been abandoned after the first leg of the quaddy, I didn’t fancy anything at Pakenham and that urge to have some tucker was starting to appear. The chicken legs were frozen so a trip out to the kitchen and the air fryer was needed to start the defrosting process. The view from the kitchen was at its best and 15 minutes at 150 was dialed in to get those chooks legs to a cookable state.

15 minutes later I was back in the kitchen and received an invite from the landlord, Mr. Hung, to join him and his guests for lunch. Why not I thought. Seasoned the chicken legs, half cooked and sliced some spuds and collected the pineapple from the fridge and headed toward the dinner table.

I had an “a ha” moment and grabbed the chicken salt. That could be their treat for the day. If only they would try it.

Some of my senior Viet Namese friends, particularly those from the rural areas, will not try anything new. Their trepidation is greater when the new thing to try is introduced by Johnny Foreigner. Anyway, let’s have a stab at it.

Hung knows me well, my beer had been in his fridge for a couple of hours while the other guests were happy with their hot beer and a hunk of ice, large enough to stop a mini titanic, placed in the glass. Guest number one was the marine motor repair man while guest numbers 2 & 3 were an elderly chap and his (grand)son. There was a huge chunk of beef on the BBQ and the usual pair of scissors on the table to cut the beef. Those scissors are something I will never get au fait with. Still, once you have tried to eat a slab of beef with chop sticks you understand why. Knives anyone.

Hung explained to me that the elderly gentleman was the local dentist and the (grand)son was his transport as he was getting to old to ride his bike. Just then, the next and final guest arrived and I was told he was the assistant to the motor mechanic. No name was given but as he was smoking the Jet brand of cigarettes I would just refer to him as Benny.

The sliced spuds had been placed in alfoil and shoved in the BBQ coals to finish cooking, 5 minutes should be enough. After taking them from the coals, I distributed the slices equally and introduced the chicken salt. The dentist, looked at the potatoes as if I had put a dog turd on his plate while the others got stuck right in. Mechanic number one had already consumed 30% of his body weight in beef so I knew he would eat the dentists potatoes, even if they were dog turds. However, I still had some magic up my sleeve, the chicken salt and it was my last chance to sway the dentist. Could the chicken salt be the trick I needed? I handed over the chicken salt and indicated to get some height with the container and shake vigorously. I took over and doing my best real chef impersonation, applied the chicken salt a bit more than moderately.

Yes, the chicken salt had weaved its magic, the dentist was transformed into the new Luke Nguyen, shaking that chicken salt like his life depended on it. Spuds gone, beef gone and even the BBQ’ed pineapple gone. The dentist had also found his voice and I was his new best friend. I thought to myself that if he was transformed so quickly that I would do the right thing myself and book in for a check up with the local village dentist. I didn’t have to let him do any real dental work, I wasn’t that convinced. I approached Hung to do the translation and ask the dentist how to make an appointment.

I have known Hung for over 3 years, the entire time I was his guest at the Homestay and I had never seen him laugh so much. After he had picked himself up off the ground and reseated himself, he explained to me that the old bloke was not in fact a dentist but what he had tried to explain to me earlier was that the scissors on the table were there mainly for the benefit of the old dude as he had weak teeth and his beef had to be cut into very small pieces.

But, he could find me a dentist if I wanted one.

Blog Post Title Three

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Blog Post Title Four

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.