Do you have my Laundry Bag?

Last weekend my local laundry didn't return my drawstring laundry bag (linen) with my clothes. It's a really nice bag that I stole from the Shangri-La hotel in KL, so worth keeping.

This morning I went back to the laundry and asked her if she had it. She had no idea what I was talking about. So I performed a mime, using a bag (plastic) as a prop. Still nothing. Act 2 was based on the theme of "last week". Nowt.

This needs to be done in Vietnamese. So today I asked my colleague to write down a phrase to ask for it. I told her maybe it would be good practice. This is what she wrote:

Cho tôi hỏi chị có thấy cái túi giặt là của tôi để quên tuần trước không? Cái túi vải (không phải nhựa) và màu trắng.

This is fucking ridiculous. I do no know what one of these words means. Surely there is a shorter way to say "Where's my laundry bag?".

Nevertheless, I have printed it out and I am going back there tomorrow. I am going to take out that phrase and make her listen to me struggle through every syllable until she understands. I am not going to show her the paper. As I've always (always) said, if the laundry lady keeps your linen bag you must be sure to make her next counter experience as painful as possible in order for them to never do it again.

Clean Sweep

Part of my rent includes a cleaner three times/week.  In the lease I nominated Monday, Wednesday and Friday as my cleaning days.

This means that every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning I have a mad scramble to clean up before leaving for work: making the bed, putting rubbish in the bin, washing up etc.

During my apartment hunt I looked through many "occupied" apartments in Hanoi. This was often while they were being cleaned. I was amazed at how messy they were, with shit everywhere and caps off things and food out and clothes strewn everywhere. 

Around the same time, I read a blog about how lazy and lordy the foreigners become with the maid service. I'm not that type of foreigner. I'm the type of foreigner who doesn't know how to negotiate his lease. And now needs to manipulate the maids to fill the gaps.

So I'm now trying to manipulate my cleaners into doing more for me, via a carefully crafted exercise in reverse psychology. And it's working.

Compared to the Filthy Potato apartments I saw previously, I am a saint. I want there to be so little for them to do in the apartment, that they are compelled to do other things. On average, they would have 1-2 hours cleaning in the other apartments and in mine there would be 10 mins.

Last weekend I generated (and binned) a lot of rubbish and my bin was overflowing. 

On Monday I came home to find an extra bin in the kitchen. They also found some leftover baguette that was on a plate and delicately balanced it across two glasses. I don't know what it meant, but it was considered so I liked it.

I have been using a shelf in my wardrobe to keep dirty clothes. I don't know how to use the washing machine so the pile is growing.

On Wednesday a lovely green laundry clothes basket was left in the bathroom. No written warnings or letters for me to sign. Just new stuff provided by those with the real power in the building.

I eventually found the user manuals, in German only, and attempted to do a load of towels. I couldn't work it out so left the towels in the washing machine and the powder next to the machine.

On Friday morning during my clean up, I raised the stakes. I took out clean dishes and cutlery and piled them up on the sink as if I'd washed them myself. I am doing my bit.

I arrived home to find towels washed, dried and folded. There were also flowers in the vase. And there was an apple resting on the manuals for the washing machine, keeping them open at the right page.  I don't know what it means, but I am beginning to like these fairies.

My next step is to keep the apartment SUPER clean over the weekend. But I won't do my washing. I will leave the lovely green basket sitting neatly beside to the washing machine full of clothes.

If this works, the iron and the ironing board out are coming out by Friday at the latest.

When I get them into the full swing of executing a total care and maintenance framework--and only then--I will start to crank up the mess.

Dirty Stupid Fat Potato

When I was travelling in Vietnam last year with Scott*, we made up a nickname for all westerners: they are potatoes. While the original usage of potato in slang was quite specific**, we rebadged it to refer to all foreign whiteys.

Here's why. Compared with the locals, we are bigger and fatter and whiter and often a bit of a sweaty mess. Combining these attributes with poor language skills and a low tolerance for heat, we must look like potatoes. Common variants are "fat potato", "stupid potato", "dirty potato" and so on. 

Once you understand this, you must realise that most daily events are designed to reinforce your current potato status. Likewise, I now use this term to explain all situations where I don't get my own way, am not understood, or am generally potatoesque. I know my place.

For example, yesterday I went to buy a bottle of water and I tried to say "How much?" in Vietnamese. She didn't understand. So I said it again. She still didn't understand. So I said it again. She shook her head. So then I tried English. No result. So then I pointed to the water and pointed to my money and said "Dong". She held up 6 fingers and I paid.

As I paid, I mumbled audibly to myself: "Fuck off and stop wasting my time you Dirty Stupid Fat Potato".

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* Not his real name. His real name is Ben.

** Etymology note. Westerners who primariliy chase Asian men are called "Rice Queens". Asian men who primarily chase westerners are called "Potato Queens".