The Expats
Expats are a colorful lot wherever they hang their hat, or in some cases, hide it. Cambodia seemed a haven for the likes of aging European drug runners, former Chicago hit men, veteran French Foreign Legionnaires, out-of-work mercenaries, even an American soldier who never went home from the war. I understood why that country is dubbed the 'Wild, Wild East', but sometimes Cambodia seemed more like a 'Sunny Place for Shady People'.
The several hundred expats here in Nha Trang are a much more relaxed, settled, happy bunch. Germans, Russians, and Irish seem to outnumber Americans - for having small businesses anyway - and their numbers also include British, French, Canadians, Australians, and Swiss, among others, from around the world.
Expats are a wealth of useful information wherever they live. They are often eager to share their hard-earned knowledge so I sought them out to learn about renting an apartment for a couple of months. The Kangarooski was their popular hangout last year. Since my arrival on the 6th, that bar has kept erratic hours but I finally caught up with Valirye, the boisterous Russian owner. He piloted MIG-21s in their Afghanistan War and has lived in Vietnam for several years. We exchanged aviation stories over a few beers and several glasses of fine vodka - the same generous vodka that, in recent months, had run the foreigners off in premature stages of inebriation. The Kangarooski is quiet now.
I caught up with a group of the alien residents at The Spot, an outdoor Irish beer garden-restaurant which is run by the witty and jovial Wilson and his Vietnamese wife. The place has superb Western and Vietnamese food and the beer is cold and cheap. Some of the rather large, lightly padded, bamboo wicker chairs are comfortable, some are not. Steve was there. I had met him last year on my two day visit to Nha Trang - he flew Huey gunships up-country, came back for a visit with some Army buddies, and decided to stay. That was seven years ago and he has only been home to Minnesota once since. It was Steve who planted in my mind the idea to get an apartment for a couple of months - something I had never done while low-budget traveling.
Steve introduced me to some of the other expats who had converged for a weekly pool tournament. Ken, a Marine veteran from Louisiana, and five years my senior, offered the fourth floor of his house for two million Vietnamese Ðong per month. Since most apartments require a three to six month contract and did not include kitchen utensils, general appliances, or linens, I agreed to have a look at the place. Two million Ðong equals about US$125.
|
|
|||
|
|
