Different streets specialize in different produce and artifacts. I like to explore. Behind the street children’s hostel the order of the day seems to be intricately woven flower arrangements for funerals and whole barbecued dog with all teeth intact. The image of these well marinated roasted snarling faces will, I know, add an unwelcome tone to the sudden sharp whelping which has awoken us during the hot nights. Talking of dogs in the night, we visited the Museum of History this afternoon and I saw that assistant in the Art shop was reading Mark Haddon’s novel -The dog in the Night- in Vietnamese. I took the opportunity to ask her if she was enjoying it, knowing how much people like to practice their English.
‘Yes -I like dog, very much,’ she said pointing to the dog on the cover lying impaled on its back.
‘What, to eat?’ I mimed eating, not very well because I did it using a knife and fork rather than chopsticks.
‘No, I like dog, very much, no’ to eat.
‘Ah! Are you enjoying the book?
‘Yes, I very much like dog, but not got far, in book
I wondered if she would enjoy it, given it wasn’t a friendly tale about a dog, but an account of the inner world of an autistic child.
Linguistic misunderstandings are frequent here. I tend not to recount them because they can end up sounding as if I am trying to ridicule the speaker in some way, whereas in fact the interest is how fragile communication is with the cultural and language differences. I will recount however that today and yesterday I received many instructions as to how to find a place that would make shoes, carrying around a very old pair that I have bought from England to be copied. I seemed to walk the length and breadth of Old Hanoi, finally realizing that to Vietnamese the word shoe and suit are indistinguishable.