Dogs in Vietnam

As mentioned in my previous post, I recently visited Vietnam with my boyfriend and we travelled from the South to the North of the country. Throughout our travels we experienced so much and saw so many breathtaking, vibrant and surprising sights. However one thing that I really noticed was how many beautiful dogs there were in Vietnam!

This was a particularly happy ‘hotel dog’. He lay curled up behind a large flowerpot in the lobby of one of our hotels in Hoi An, and met us at the door when we came home that night! I’ll admit that he was one of the reasons I was sad to leave that hotel, that and the lovely staff!

Although I was very wary about touching or interfering with any animals in Vietnam (for reasons of safety and respect), this dog was particularly loving and amiable, and the hotel staff assured me he wouldn’t bite!

There were a particularly large number of dogs in Hoi An, and many of them could be found sitting outside the quaint shops in the ancient town. This particular doggo was doing a fabulous job of guarding an Art shop, and the beverages!

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It became clear that dogs are a much loved pet in Hoi An, and I loved seeing so many of them trundling along and lounging on the porches of their owners’ shops and homes.

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I saw this beautiful dog sitting on a shaded porch and watching the tourists and locals walking and cycling by. As a Brit who could only just about cope with the sweltering heat, I thought this dog’s choice to have a nice rest in the shade was very sensible!

After our visit to Hoi An, we travelled North to Hue on Motorbikes (which I’ll talk about in detail in another post – stay tuned!) and on our way we saw lots of dogs.

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This dog was trotting about on Monkey Mountain.

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In contrast, this serene looking dog was guarding one of the the pagodas. He sat very still, but as soon as we came closer his head perked up with so much pride and authority; he was a very good guard dog!

After travelling back down from Monkey Mountain, we headed to an incredibly tranquil spring, where two sweet dogs were lying on the sun bathed rocks and lapping at the cool water.

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We had an amazing time at this spring and the dogs were so calm and still. It’s almost as if the animals here practised Buddhism! This was definitely one of the highlights of our trips and it was lovely to meet these two dogs.

From the springs we then travelled the final stretch to Hue. Whilst exploring Hue, we saw a very excitable Pug!

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He was so excitable, in fact, that we couldn’t get a clear picture of him, just a blur of utter doggo excitement! From Hue, we travelled to Hanoi, were there were lots and lots of dogs. One of the sweetest things we saw on our trip was a litter of fluffy puppies who were playing on the side street near our hotel.

As you can see they were really tiny. One of them was so fluffy it looked like a loofa with legs! After staying in Hanoi for a short time, we travelled to Sapa for a few days. When we got there is was rainy and misty, which was a welcome relief from the heat! On our first day in Sapa we saw this gorgeous dog:

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This lovely dog had such beautiful colouring, she was wandering about in the square in Sapa and got lots of positive attention from the locals and the tourists in the area. After a brief stay in gorgeous Sapa, we travelled back to Hanoi to spend the remainder of our trip exploring the bustling city.

Vietnam was a wonderful adventure, and seeing these friendly dogs made it feel so much more homely. I actually never once saw a local shoo a dog away.

Although I’m very aware that there are people in Vietnam who do not treat dogs humanely, the majority of interactions I saw were positive. Whilst we were in Vietnam, an article about the condemnation of the consumption of dog meat in Hanoi was published on the BBC. Most of the dogs in Hanoi are pets, and it seems to me that the majority of people in Vietnam wish to treat these animals with respect, and they are trying hard to phase out the cultural ‘habit’ of consuming and selling dog meat.

With this slightly more negative point aside, it was lovely to see the positive interactions between dogs and humans in Vietnam, and how much love the locals have for their furry friends!

BONUS: Just for the cat lovers, here’s a picture of a sleepy cat in the Ancient Town of Hoi An!

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Vietnam – South to North

My boyfriend and I had the adventure of a lifetime in Vietnam this Summer. After several planes, trains and automobiles we travelled from the South in Ho Chi Minh City all the way to Sapa in the North.

Vietnam is a beautiful, friendly, vibrant country filled with breathtaking scenery, delicious food and incredible history & architecture.

I’m planning on writing a many different posts about the trip. For now, here are a few of our highlights.

Enjoy!

It’s a wonderful thing to be quiet

Have you ever been told that you’re ‘too quiet’? If you’re anything like me you’ll have heard this countless times throughout your life. Some people are perplexed by quietness and introversion. It is a very western concept that extroversion is seen as the norm and that if you’re a quieter person, you’re the anomaly or the ‘shy’ one. As a young pupil I was the quiet kid, and as an educator I became hyper aware of the quiet kids within the classroom. Being quiet, at least as far as I’ve noticed, has always been considered one of those quirks that needs to slowly be developed.

The thing is, being quiet is actually pretty awesome. Many people who are considered ‘quiet’ aren’t like that all the time. Some of us are quiet in big groups, but talk the ears off of our closest friends and family. Some of us just prefer to listen and observe. Quiet people are brilliant listeners, keen observers, and we’re often well tuned in to the world. Being quiet is different to being shy. Shyness can be related to wanting to speak and not feeling confident or comfortable enough to do so. Quietness is simply the absence of noise. What kind of a work would it be if we were all shouting over each other constantly?

Often, being quiet can bring with it some worry. I’ve sat in many a room with a many a friend or acquaintance or colleague, and felt anxious about not saying enough. At times, I’ve felt the need to try to make small talk or fill frequent silences with this and that. But in all honestly I don’t always have the urge to talk. I like looking and listening and watching and understanding and simply just being.

It’s not just okay to be quiet. It’s actually a wonderful thing. Being quiet allows us space to see and feel and witness the world around us. If you have a quiet friend, a quiet child in your classroom, or maybe a colleague who doesn’t speak up as much as the rest of the team, try to see this as a beautiful and wonderful introspective gift. We are all different, and there isn’t one fixed way to be. Loud or quiet, we each contribute something unique and important to the world around us. In loudness there is movement and flurries of revelation. In quietness there is peace, understanding and stillness, and we each make up two halves of an ever continuing conversation.

 

To the NHS nurse who held my hand

When I was 17 years old I had a Cancer scare. The ultimate outcome was that I was far too young to go through invasive screening and that they were certain I was fine. This unfortunately led to a series of health related anxieties, doctors visits and serious hypochondria. When I say the word “hypochondria’ I’m sure many people envisage a germaphobe or a comedy sketch with Dr Google sentencing me to death. It is and was, however, a serious and debilitating form of health anxiety which affects me in profound ways. I’m sure many will think that it’s such a privileged standpoint, to be worrying about these illnesses and never actually have them. But it really is rough, intrusive and overwhelming. I’ve written a more specific post about Hypochondria and you can find it here.

In May 2017 at age 24, the symptoms that I had gotten at age 17 came back. Without going into too much detail, I ended up getting a procedure done to screen for Cancer. This was the ‘invasive’ screening that the doctors in my teens had told me I was too young to go through, and good grief were they right. Let’s just say it involved a needle and an ultrasound machine.

When I got to the screening clinic I had no idea that I would end up getting this procedure. I was greeted by two lovely smiling receptionists and sat down in the reception amongst the rest of the people waiting. I was called through to a doctors office and I remember it being oddly dark in there. I’m sure there’s a technical or medical reason for it but it made the experience extra trippy. For the life of me I can’t remember the Doctor’s name. I only remember that she looked like Charlotte Rampling and that she was a little bit scary (though I expect anyone holding a needle with the intention of stabbing you with it is terrifying).

What I do remember though, was Louise. Louise was the nurse that called me into the room and stayed with me the whole time. I remembered her name because she was like my guardian angel that day. Thank the stars for her. When it all started she held my hand as if I was her own daughter, and I just kept wondering how many hands she’d held before.

As I looked at the details of one particular ceiling tile I realised my feet were freezing cold. I had my running shoes on and I remember looking down at them, desperately to put the thoughts of illness and disease and infection out of my mind, and to quiet the voices asking ‘did she sterilise that needle?’ and ‘what if she finds something?’. On the other side of the room I could see my boyfriend who was told he had to stay on the other side of the half drawn curtain. There was a piece of fluff hanging from the ceiling vent and I stared at it… and stared and stared.

When the procedure started the Doctor said ‘You poor girl’, and I just kept holding Louise’s hand. And Louise was there. She didn’t know that I was already envisaging my own funeral, or picturing my immune system being set upon by bacteria shaped monsters. But Louise was there and she made everything seem okay, because she’s a bloody good nurse. When it was all finished Louise took us out of the room and asked me how I felt, I said ‘tired’ and she said ‘me too’, she was definitely more tired than me. I went home, ate monster much and watched Lilo and Stitch.

For the first time in a long time, I couldn’t obsess about an invisible illness or an itch or a dirty hand rail on the tube, I had finally seen what I had been terrified about for so long, and it was smaller than an MnM. The fears of death and illness were suddenly replaced with rationality and planning calmly for the various scenarios that might surface.

When it all came through clear, I was relieved, but I also felt silly, and thankful, and blessed that we have a National Health Service in this country with hundreds of thousands of of Louises.

The NHS is immeasurable, irreplaceable and essential. But it’s slowly being driven to the point of total breakdown. Louise does a job that I could never do, she sees people through their most vulnerable times with a smile and profound strength. I have friends who are nurses, I have a boyfriend who’s training to be a doctor, these people are amazing and I honestly couldn’t imagine having to do what they do. The NHS has been incredible to me. It works, and it works hard.

I hope we can continue to spread our stories and share our gratitude towards the NHS staff who have held our hands, saved our lives, helped us through illness and fought for us. In a world full of hatred, selfishness and fear… I think we should all strive to be a little more ‘Louise’.

The Ship Might Sink

This blog post was my first ever, and for some reason I deleted it. I’m not sure why but I only recently found it and decided it deserved a re-upload. Since starting my blog, my grandparents have sadly both since passed away, but they stay with us in memories such as this. I hope you enjoy this old blog post which explains my blog title.

When me and my family used to sit at the dinner table for our weekly visit to my Grandparents’ house we would listen to the most obscure stories. Within them were some utter gems, and some of the most poignant, rare observations came from my Grandad, (affectionately known to us as Mandad).

One of these hidden gems seemed to come out more often than others. Imagine this, my sister is happily digging in to her meal but, like she does every week, she leaves her meat until the end. Mandad notices this, and looks on with narrow, but jovial eyes and says “Jessica! Why are you leaving the chicken?” for what seems to be at least the fifth time, and we see where it’s going. “I’m just leaving it till last…” she says with a smile “…because it’s the best bit!”. And now Mandad lets out that signature phrase we’re all waiting for “Ah, but Jess! The ship might sink!”. What’s the moral of that story? Well, we had no idea, so we asked. “Well, when you’re on a ship you never know when it might sink!” says Mandad “So, you always eat the best bit first, because it might be your last meal, or you might need that strength when you get shipwrecked!” He exhales a loud chuckle, we giggle, and Jess saves her meat till last again.

The more I heard this reappear in conversation, the more insightful it seemed. “The ship might sink” kept playing over and over as such an interesting message. “The ship might sink”, is just like saying live life to the fullest and take every opportunity as soon as possible before it passes you by… Obviously it’s a bleaker way of saying it, since in Mandad’s version you are looking at some kind of naval disaster, but it makes for an interesting blog title. And the ship sinking isn’t just a metaphor for death, or anything else which is as severe and sombre. I think the ship just signifies an opportunity, a time in which you need to seize your destiny, and try not to make the mistake of playing it safe.

 

Still

 

Still

Your cold fists scrunch tufts of hair into birds nests

But now It’s time to go

Just put on your shoes

One at a time

 

Bite the skin on your lips

Give your fingers time to breath

Now put on that bag of artefacts

I feels heavier than before

 

Glance down and down

Further than that

Until the core of the earth can see you

Until it stares back

 

Can you hear it yet?

The groaning and the wheezing

The rumble and the racket

Your steed is here

 

Two steps too close

See the blur and the squabble

Cross your fingers in your pocket

And hope to breathe

 

Stand tall, don’t topple

Look past it, that’s far enough

Hand on heart, feel it beat

Remember that it’s there.