Travelling Frogs try* wherever they go to respect the culture and behaviours of the places they visit. Often though it’s not really clear what to do, or what not to do. So the Frogs welcome initiatives like this one, from one of Japan’s most popular tourist destinations.
*with varying success, I suspect, despite the best of intentions
Now, Travelling Frogs consider themselves reasonably intrepid, and like to try interesting foods wherever they go. However, this dish (on the menu in Danang, Vietnam) gave us food for thought*. Had something, somehow, got lost in translation? Should we try it anyway, in the interests of research and appreciating local culture?
I’m sorry to say (am I really sorry?) that, on this occasion, courage forsook us. Maybe another time…
*sorry!
Seen recently in Bordeaux, this notice made us smile. It also made us think.
One lesson from travelling – we learn a lot, including how much we don’t know. All those unwritten ‘rules’ around the world; what to wear, how to greet people, what time to eat etc etc. Some things you can work out – as the late great Yogi Berra said “you can observe a lot by just watching” – others are more tricky. One of the tricky ones is tipping. Have you ever wondered (we have!) should I tip or shouldn’t I? How much? Who should I tip?
Countries that appear similar in many ways can have different tipping cultures. In the Netherlands tips are expected in restaurants, in Belgium they’re not. The French, British and Americans tip the hairdresser, the Dutch and Swedish don’t. In the US tipping is almost obligatory, and amounts are higher than in Europe too. I guess we’re not the only ones who routinely research “tipping in ….” before we go.
Because there’s that worry, isn’t there, what if we get it wrong? Tipping when we shouldn’t, for example. Well, in Japan your offering might be turned down, tipping is considered rude. And although things might be changing a bit in Australia in the cities, one Australian* maintains “… many of us hate it when people tip. It is not necessary and a culture that we do NOT want in Australia”. If even if tipping is OK, though, how much is the right amount? The “accepted” sum can vary, from loose change, up to 20-25%. Rick Steves (ricksteves.com) advises Americans travelling in Europe “…if your bucks talk at home, muzzle them on your travels” and goes on to say “believe me – tipping 15 or 20 percent in Europe is unnecessary, if not culturally ignorant”. Oh dear.
Rick’s comments hint at another aspect of the tipping dilemma, what does our tipping (or lack of) say about us? what will others think about us based on the way we tip? Or even on the way they expect us to tip? This was really brought home to me when I recently read an insightful and thought provoking post “Tipping While Black – Dismantling Stereotypes in the US and Abroad” (theblogabroad.com). Well worth reading, well worth thinking about, whatever our skin colour. And an addition to the big debates about tipping and “overtipping”, especially by travellers from richer countries in poorer places, debates about many of the big questions of our times: inequality, the world order, best ways to relieve poverty, and so on, and on…
*taken from TripAdvisor, 2016
On a bus in Sarawak, Travelling Frogs overheard a conversation. A young German couple, recently arrived from Thailand, were chatting with an American couple who were on their way there and who were eager for recommendations.
The Germans told the following tale, of visiting a beach that was highly praised in their guide book. Yes, they said, it was very beautiful, palm-fringed, sable-sanded, wonderful views over the azure sea. Worth going there? Yes, definitely. It was stunning. It was also very busy*. Anyway, they staked their claim to a pretty spot and settled down to enjoy the day. As they relaxed with their books and their sunscreen. a local gentleman came over to them. After exchanging greetings, where everyone came from, etc, the German couple said how much they loved the country and how special this place was. The Thai gentleman seemed pleased with the compliments, and pointed to the far end of the beach. ‘Over there’, he said ‘see, there’s a little gap in the trees. Go over there, through the gap, five minutes walk, you’ll come to another beach. Beautiful like this, no people. Quiet, tranquil. Go there, you’ll like it’.
At this point, relating the story to their new friends on the bus, our young German couple admitted they were nervous, not sure what to do. They didn’t know this person. He seemed very charming and very friendly. He obviously knew the area. It was so kind of him to suggest this hidden treasure. But…doubts set in. Was there a beach? If so what was it like? Was it really deserted? They didn’t know this person, who was he? How could they judge his intentions? Was there some ulterior motive? Was he trying to con them, sell them something, worse? Would they be safe? They decided to stay where they were. The American couple nodded. ‘Very wise’, they said. ‘Good decision. You never know’, they said.
The story didn’t quite finish there, though. The Germans’ hours on the beach were delightful, if not quite idyllic. At the end of the day, they gathered their belongings, and thought ‘what if?’ And, on impulse, walked to the end of the beach, through the gap in the trees, followed the narrow, rather overgrown path for five minutes, and stepped out – onto a beautiful, deserted, beach.
Ahhh. Travellers’ dilemmas, indeed.
*That’s a bit of a problem with guide books, in my experience. Other people read them too…
Ho Chi Minh City has10 million people. And 6 million motor bikes. And when you want to cross the road, they all seem to be heading towards you…
Imagine. You’ve been sightseeing, you’ve loved it but now you’re footsore and weary. You can see one of those chic, charming cafes, all French style and Vietnamese charm, cold drinks, warm welcome. But…it’s on the other side of the road.
And on the road, there are motorbikes. Lots and lots of them. Everywhere in Vietnam the motor cycle is the workhorse of transport. You’ve spotted one loaded with a ladder, loops of wires and a box of tools, another with a wardrobe, others with seemingly impossible quantities of flowers, of plastic boxes, of brooms and baskets, of those mouth watering baguettes. You’ve seen a little girl in school uniform, satchel on her back, wedged between Dad and big brother. You’ve seen three giggling students, a mother and daughter in matching pink helmets, two men in black martial arts gear. You’ve seen songbirds in cages, loaded onto the handlebars to be taken to the park for singing practice. You’ve heard an overawed foreigner report: ‘I saw a bike with a family of 5 on it yesterday’. You’ve been invited -‘you motobike you’ – to take a ride on a ‘xe om’ (literal translation is ‘hug vehicle’).
So, there are lots of motorbikes. But, you might ask, what’s the problem? After all, the city boasts wide streets, plenty of traffic lights, strategically placed zebra crossings. Well, it appears that lights and crossings and traffic signs are often, er, how shall we put this, guidelines, rather than obligatory. And here you are on the roadside. With a torrent of traffic between you and that cafe. Cars, taxis, a few trucks, a tourist minibus. And all those motorbikes, sailing through red lights or down one-way streets the wrong way, darting (illegally) to right or left… You laughed when you heard about foreign tourists standing at the side of the road for an hour waiting to cross, then giving up or booking a taxi to drive them to the other side of the street. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so funny.
But…that café. That cold drink. And you’re at a crossing, surely that must mean something? And just now there’s a break in cars and trucks and buses and look, there’s a local stepping out into the fray… What did they tell you? ‘Let cars and buses go first. Take it slow and steady. Whatever you do, don’t change direction. And don’t stop. Whatever you do don’t stop. They aren’t deliberately targeting you’.
So – off you go. Deep breath, launch into the free-for-all, into the stream, steady now, hold your nerve. Eyes on the traffic, slowly now, don’t flinch…and yes! the flow of motor bikes parts for you, closes behind you. And then- then there you are! On the pavement in front of the cafe, triumphant, heart beating faster but unharmed. Ready for that drink…
Uluru/Ayers Rock. Hard to find the words for the sense of awe it inspires, its beauty, its significance, its unique environment. There was a dilemma, though. Should we, or shouldn’t we, climb to the top?
We read the words of the Anangu, traditional custodians of the site. And we decided not to.
And I have to admit, just in case we’d been tempted, one look at the route would probably have clinched it….
travelling frogs 