ΠΕΡΙΟΔΙΚΟ ΜΕ ΨΥΧΗ, BLOG ΧΩΡΙΣ ΣΩΨΥΧΑ. ΟΣΑ ΑΦΟΡΟΥΝ ΤΟ ΜΟΝΑΔΙΚΟ ΑΝΕΞΑΡΤΗΤΟ ΠΕΡΙΟΔΙΚΟ ΤΗΣ ΠΟΛΗΣ. ΕΔΩ ΣΤΕΛΝΕΙΣ ΓΝΩΜΕΣ/ΙΣΤΟΡΙΕΣ ΠΟΥ ΑΦΟΡΟΥΝ ΤΟ SOUL. INTERACTION ΔΕΝ ΗΘΕΛΕΣ;
(Traveling alone as a woman poses its own unique challenges, as Joanne Ryan found out on a recent trip to Vietnam…)
My curiosity pulled me into places with the most vague half notion of something I might like, and invariably I floated out with a promise of the outfit I'd always half known I'd sort of wanted…
But then came the fittings. From one sweaty changing room to the next, appeared a stream of half-made, ill-fitting clothes far from the sexy ensembles I’d envisaged. “I sorry. We maybe confuse your measurement?” one seamstress suggested apologetically, as I stood in her shop, clad in what could double as a family tent. “Confused them with what?” I wondered in dismay, “A pregnant heifer surfing a pyramid?”
I arranged another fitting without much hope, and was wandering the streets despondent, when a chirpy, wizened, old woman appeared before me. “Tailor trouble?” she asked knowingly. I nodded sadly. “Come with me now. Beauty massage. Very good. Come!”
Without energy to argue and in need of some pampering, I followed her down a narrow alleyway lined with caged roosters and trussed ducks. As instructed, I lay behind curtains on a board at the end of the lane, and soon forgot my earlier woes when she began an agonizing Morris Dance across my spine.
After thirty minutes or so of this unique ordeal, with surprising strength she flipped me onto my back, and began deftly plucking my eyebrows in the traditional Vietnamese style. This effective and ingenious method involves pulling out hairs using lengths of tightly wound string. She convinced me I had a moustache that needed seeing to, but having no inclination to lie whimpering in pain for another thirty minutes, I overpaid her, thanked her for cheering me marvelous much, and ran back down the lane to safety.
The second and third fittings brought a lot more smiles and success. I finally left Hoi An with a colorful burst of new outfits, most of which I needed like a moose needs a hat-stand.
Overall, I found having clothes made to measure based on your own designs to be a process not unlike traveling through Vietnam as a woman. It is an emotional roller-coaster of miscommunication, hope, disappointment, excitement, self-loathing and, occasionally, relief.
I have also learnt never to judge a suit on the first fitting. Which could be an extended metaphor for life, if you’re into that kind of thing.
bravo paidia gia ena periodiko pou eilikrina prospathei na einai diaforetiko apo ta alla kai god mercy xwris polles polles diafimiseis me plousio uliko , etsi gia na xerete exete kanei arketes ptiseis mou toso euxaristes diabazontas soul :-) p.s stefane min prospatheis na antagwnisteis ta VS kai WAD magazines , they are really cool ,but keep it soul coul , then xreiazomaste allo ena wannabe periodiko
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5 Comments:
Woman’s Vietnam 3
(Traveling alone as a woman poses its own unique challenges, as
Joanne Ryan found out on a recent trip to Vietnam…)
My curiosity pulled me into places with the most vague half notion of something I might like, and invariably I floated out with a promise of the outfit I'd always half known I'd sort of wanted…
But then came the fittings. From one sweaty changing room to the next, appeared a stream of half-made, ill-fitting clothes far from the sexy ensembles I’d envisaged. “I sorry. We maybe confuse your measurement?” one seamstress suggested apologetically, as I stood in her shop, clad in what could double as a family tent. “Confused them with what?” I wondered in dismay, “A pregnant heifer surfing a pyramid?”
I arranged another fitting without much hope, and was wandering the streets despondent, when a chirpy, wizened, old woman appeared before me. “Tailor trouble?” she asked knowingly. I nodded sadly. “Come with me now. Beauty massage. Very good. Come!”
Without energy to argue and in need of some pampering, I followed her down a narrow alleyway lined with caged roosters and trussed ducks. As instructed, I lay behind curtains on a board at the end of the lane, and soon forgot my earlier woes when she began an agonizing Morris Dance across my spine.
After thirty minutes or so of this unique ordeal, with surprising strength she flipped me onto my back, and began deftly plucking my eyebrows in the traditional Vietnamese style. This effective and ingenious method involves pulling out hairs using lengths of tightly wound string. She convinced me I had a moustache that needed seeing to, but having no inclination to lie whimpering in pain for another thirty minutes, I overpaid her, thanked her for cheering me marvelous much, and ran back down the lane to safety.
The second and third fittings brought a lot more smiles and success. I finally left Hoi An with a colorful burst of new outfits, most of which I needed like a moose needs a hat-stand.
Overall, I found having clothes made to measure based on your own designs to be a process not unlike traveling through Vietnam as a woman. It is an emotional roller-coaster of miscommunication, hope, disappointment, excitement, self-loathing and, occasionally, relief.
I have also learnt never to judge a suit on the first fitting. Which could be an extended metaphor for life, if you’re into that kind of thing.
ENDS
Joanne Ryan
ryanjoanne@gmail.com
6:29 AM
bravo paidia gia ena periodiko pou eilikrina prospathei na einai diaforetiko apo ta alla kai god mercy xwris polles polles diafimiseis me plousio uliko , etsi gia na xerete exete kanei arketes ptiseis mou toso euxaristes diabazontas soul :-)
p.s stefane min prospatheis na antagwnisteis ta VS kai WAD magazines , they are really cool ,but keep it soul coul , then xreiazomaste allo ena wannabe periodiko
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