Việt Womện

XXVII

There is a deep moan inside of me; a dull ache right in the pit of my stomach. My whole being is yearning for the country I’ve just returned from:

Việt Nam.

***

I know I could go into depth and describe what I’ve experienced in meticulous detail (for instance, how much better bananas taste there or how the colours of the country shine brighter than anywhere else). However, I'm sure you can get a decent impression of that through Google. Instead, whilst traveling, I felt the urgency to write about the fantastic Vietnamese people and their culture. There is a lack of coverage in Western media; in fact, embarrassingly, I had no idea that the country was still communist until I decided to go there. I had the impression that Vietnam remains a mystery to many of us, so I’m going to try and lift the veil in a couple of blog posts.

In view of International Women’s Day I decided to put two special women I talked to into the spotlight.

Huyền is one of the sweetest young women I’ve ever met. She currently works as an operations manager and a tour guide or, more like, a brilliant entertainer for the tourists who visit the Phong Nha-Kẻ Bàng National Park in the Northern part of the country, an overnight train ride away from the capital Hà Nội. It’s a small community here, with about 1,000 people living in the village right on the edge of the vast jungle. There are a lot of beautiful caves in the park, two of which my group explore together with Huyền, a fellow tour guide and three park rangers. I’m stunned by the unspoilt beauty of nature but I’m even more amazed by our cheeky female tour guide.

Huyền's open-mindedness is unparalleled among her fellow countrywomen; her English at a level where she can joke around with tourists (and the Vietnamese love a joke!) To her, being open-minded means that she has a lot of Western views about life. In the evening, Huyền takes me and some other European guys to rent one of the private Karaoke rooms in the village. Locals love singing together and we are surprised how many Western pop songs there are to choose from. A massive sound system blasts our katzenjammer back at us but we enjoy every minute of it.

In her early twenties, Huyền essentially has to get married if she wants to be an accepted member of society. Women get hitched from an early age (16) and when you reach 25, your mother will worry day and night that you’ll end up as a grey spinster. Huyền also tells me about the difficulties Vietnamese women face when they’re left by their husbands: ‘It's hard to re-marry and dating someone else in public can cause problems within the local community.’ The choice of a solitary or a secret love life? Condemnation of progressive thinking? Sounds to me just like what happened to women in Europe before the wave of emancipation rolled over our Western communities in the 60s.

Huyền has another example for me. ‘A friend of mine had to marry a guy who got her pregnant. He just wanted some fun with her and now she is expected to live with and look after his family as well as her child. She’s very unhappy but there’s nothing to be done. I wish I could help her.’

I ask Huyền whether she would ever consider marrying. ‘A woman’s life ends when she marries. I don’t want to lose my independence. Also, having children means losing your youthful, slim body’, she says and grins mischievously. My guess is that more than half of 23-year-olds in Vienna or London would agree with her. This is Vietnam, however, and conservatism is still highly valued among people, even in more urban communities.

A visit to the Vietnam Women's Museum in the capital gave me a good impression of what big role tradition still plays. On one hand, there are extensive ceremonies connected to religion, weddings and child birth but on the other hand, many women have had to overcome their role of being a housewife and mother and work long days in the cities to support their family. Most of them can be seen walking along the busy streets hoping to sell fruit. They only get to visit their family in the countryside every other weekend.

Mai*, another female tour guide who grew up in Ho Chi Minh City (the previous name of the Southern Vietnamese city is Sài Gòn), tells me that her family has been putting pressure on her to get married for a long time. At almost 30-years-old, she’s way beyond the usual marital age, but she and her boyfriend have made the conscious decision not to say “I do” until they have kids because they simply don’t see the point in it. We meet Mai in a more Southern national park, where she is taking care of a German group travelling north. She impresses me with her fluency in German, which she studied at university, and even more so with her wish of visiting Germany this year.

Having saved up money for her visa, Mai is already bracing herself for a bureaucratic ordeal which will take up a few months. ‘You need to have at least an equivalent of roughly £20,000 in your bank account so that the government can expect you to be able to buy a return ticket. With an average monthly wage of roughly $220 only very few can afford this luxury. We learn from Mai that many Vietnamese haven’t even travelled around their own country, let alone neighbouring Cambodia, Laos and Thailand for which the Vietnamese don't need a visa. ‘We often work 28 out of 30 days a month to make a living. There is hardly any time or money left for visiting places.’ 

The next obstacle for visa applicants is an invitation they need to obtain from someone in Europe (which Mai fortunately got from people she became friends with on one of her tours). The government then conducts a detailed interrogation about your relationship to these people. Mai is facing several “interviews” before she will finally (and hopefully) receive the visa. I have my fingers tightly crossed for her .

Mai answers my question regarding whether it’s possible to speak openly about personal political views in her country with a cynical snort. ‘My friends and I often joke about how you shouldn’t be saying this or that or you’ll be locked up. You simply cannot speak your mind here, not even in English. People can report you so you’ve got to be careful all the time.’ 

This makes me read up on Vietnamese re-education camps that the government generously “provides” for dissidents. It’s a bleak reality the Vietnamese have been facing since the North and South of the country were reunited in 1976. Huyền and Mai are, however, part of a new generation of women who might want to shift things around a little. Even if it's not a political change then perhaps their shared views create an impact on how young women want to shape their own life in future.

In my next blog post I’ll be talking about how, decades after the war ended, tourism has been creating a new set of jobs, and how the Vietnamese are masters at making a living.

*Names changed for political or other reasons, please see: https://www.hrw.org/asia/vietnam

Splitting Your Soul

XXVI

Last night I woke up from one of those dreams that feel realer than real. I'm an infamous dreamer anyway because I'm usually able to remember all the weird stuff my mind is digesting at night. I was watching my ex-colleagues through a window, working away in their office. Even though I didn't recognise the place I longed to go in there and be part of the team once again; I wanted to belong to a group of people who strive for the same goals. Then I dreamt of various friends of mine who I was saying goodbye to. There were cloud-like streaks of sadness all around me, but I couldn't escape; I never can. Eventually, the dream changed again and sent me abroad to an exotic country. 

***

If you ever have nightmares you know the feeling of waking up all sweaty and experiencing extreme relief that you haven't been killed (or killed someone yourself). I wouldn't describe last night's dream as a nightmare; It was definitely a strange one, though, because I was breathing hard and within seconds I realised that all of the stuff I'd seen in my dream had actually just happened. I have left my job, I am going to leave my London friends behind and I'm off on an adventure to Vietnam this Sunday, before moving back home to Austria.

Our flat is now pretty much empty, except for the boxes that have been packed full to the brim with our things that we've accumulated over the years. We arrived here with three suitcases full of clothes, so how are there now over ten boxes, waiting to be shipped? Last month I had to part with roughly fifty books because I could only take the most valued ones to Austria. I will never say a bad thing about hoarders again.

And then there was our goodbye party last weekend. Celebrating with the people we've grown to love was heart-melting and wonderful, and it reminded me so much of 3.5 years ago when I left my friends behind in Vienna. When I look back at my older blog posts from 2013 I can see how distraught I was, to begin with. Making new friends and settling down in a new country can be as terrifying as it is inspiring. Things have changed, however. I have changed, and somehow, embracing this change made me grow up. I managed to build a new life in this city. And I have now finally split my soul into two pieces; one that belongs to Vienna, and one that will stay here in London. 

Split souls are magnificent yet dangerous things. They can tear you apart or implode if you're not careful. There is a constant desire to be present in both places, so you will never feel quite at ease. When you are in one city you will always miss people, traditions, and habits of the other city. Nevertheless, isn't it something special to have several homes in this world that you can always come back to? I'm proud to have become a proper Londoner. The city has shaped me as a person and it will continue to haunt me in my dreams (and so will my friends if I don't visit them regularly!)

There's only one thing left to say:
Thank ye London, for all you've done. 
I will be back soon.

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

XXV

Dedicated to my European friends who have left Britain or continue to live there. Good luck to us all.

 ***

The UK government's announcement today has certainly brought back vivid, yet dark memories from last year.

On the morning of June 24^th 2016 I woke up in my tent at Glastonbury Festival and the first thing I did was check the news on my phone. What none of my friends or colleagues had expected actually happened - the majority of British people had voted to leave the European Union. As we walked to fetch some water we overheard plenty of people swearing and moaning (their hangovers not being the main cause, in this instance). The news were spreading fast and wherever we went, Brexit seemed to be the only topic. Glastonbury appeared shattered that morning and I was, admittedly, too. The world as I’d known it had ceased to exist overnight, or at least some of my hopes and visions for the future had.

I’d grown up believing in the European Union and its values. The school I attended made sure to teach us plenty about it. This basic education and further lectures at university made it obvious to me how beneficial it was, despite all its problems and necessary improvements. Nevertheless, I realised back then that a lot of people weren’t happy with the institution. In fact, the populist Austrian Freedom Party and certain media in my country had launched a crusade against the EU, ridiculing its decisions and subsequently distorting less educated people’s views.

Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure to make use of the European study exchange programme Erasmus (mostly due to my degree being Russian language studies) but I certainly benefitted from it in other ways. While studying in Vienna, I met interesting Erasmus students from all over the continent (and one of them was so fascinating that he ended up becoming my partner). The encounter with other Europeans changed me as a person because I opened up and started to experience the benefits of the European single market. This single market guarantees the free movement of goods, capital, services, and people – the "four freedoms" – within the European Union.

The internal market ensured that my British partner could work in Vienna after he had finished his degree. It also enabled us to move to London three and a half years ago. Naturally, living in London has not been a walk in the park throughout. Moving to an entirely different country probably never is. The first two years were hard enough before I found a permanent job I enjoyed. Working and living with Brits and many other European nationals has, however, been a fantastic opportunity. It’s one I wouldn’t miss for the world. I hope that living in this melting pot of cultures has also made me a more tolerant person.

Having experienced the uproar of my fellow (British) Londoners after the referendum I felt reassured, at first. Everyone kept telling me that obviously, they wouldn’t just deport us, being useful and tax-paying and all that. London is not the crux of the problem, though as people in the city are used to migrants who helped to shape London in many ways. Regions that are further away from the “Golden Belt of London” (and have therefore not enjoyed the benefits from the EU as much) have been more sceptical of the institution. What they (want to) see is that people from other parts of Europe come to the UK to take away their jobs. The knowledge that there is widespread fear of immigration has been exploited by many populist parties in recent years, and it was, of course, ruthlessly exploited by the Leave Campaign. The anger directed towards London due to its status as a magnet for the majority of business in the country, combined with the vote against “the establishment” and the common human habit of finding a scapegoat in foreigners probably led to the decision to abandon the EU back in June 2016.

The result felt like a punch to the stomach. As a European who is employed by a British company meant that my future here has been clouded in uncertainty. Many non-British friends of mine have since applied for either British citizenship or permanent residency. The application for this residency alone is 85 pages long and it takes at least half a year to obtain it. There have been many cases of people in the media who have been denied this residency even though as Europeans, they should not even have to worry about it, having been guaranteed the right to stay when they came here. Europeans who have been here for 15 years or longer are seriously anxious that they might have to relocate – and what if one partner is British, the other Austrian, like in my case? Will the British government provide me with the right to stay here after the country leaves the EU in 2019? The Prime Minister has been extremely vague about that, arguing that they can’t guarantee anything because they need this card up their sleeve to negotiate a good deal with the EU.

Up until this morning, when Theresa May delivered her speech, speculation on the government’s plans had been rife. Now that we’ve established that the Tories want to “build a truly global Britain”, and Mrs May is going to ensure a hard Brexit, having ruled out membership of the European single market, it seems that I have made the right choice. I admit that my decision to leave London has not merely been influenced by Brexit. The horrendous rental prices of London will not allow me to climb up on the real estate ladder for another ten years. However, the idea of going back would not have been sparked like that in the first place, had Brexit not happened. My partner’s industry has already taken a hit due to Brexit and so we decided it was financially safer for him to accept a job in Vienna. I won’t be eligible for a permanent residency for another 1.5 years (+ 6 months waiting time) and so I can’t be certain that I will be allowed to stay here after Britain departs from the EU. Forgive me, but psychology has established security as a basic human need.

It is a real shame that British children of the future will not experience an open, European-oriented Britain as we've known it. I have learned to love this country and particularly the unrivalled openness of the city of London. Somehow it feels wrong that my departure has to be such a sudden one, leaving behind a great job and people who have truly grown on me. What is worse is that going home doesn’t mean that uncertainty is going to leave me and my partner completely. We are already dreading finding out whether he will have to get a visa to stay in Austria. Thank you very much, Mrs May, we know you're just ensuring the Best for Britain, even if it has to become an offshore tax haven or a colony of Mr Trump's great American Empire.

Should Auld Acquaintance Therefore Be Forgot? I do not think so. I sincerely hope that Brits of today will remember and relate to future generations what it was like to be close to their “continental” neighbours and perhaps, in a future, dystopian world, they will decide to re-join the great project called “European Union”.