Self as Narrator, Self as Hero

One of the peculiarities of travel writing is that normally the central character of the narrator - the hero, if you like - is the writer himself.
I am talking here about the unnamed narrator of Destination Saigon, called variously, Big Brother, Fatty, Sir and – my favourite – Dumpling Face. He’s lazy, and disinclined to indulge in physical exercise – and there's something I recognise in that. He could be accused of being a religious maniac, except he’s never seen a religious person or religious act that he couldn’t poke fun at. There’s an inability to be serious, perhaps even a fear of the grave (and I leave the meaning of that statement intentionally unclear).
This character – this other Walter Mason – is also a big man, and I share this quality with him. The Vietnamese have the great charm of normally being completely honest and up-front. Being among them is like being in that awful film where no-one knows how to tell lies. Any faults, any physical differences, are immediately assessed and brought to the fore. My thesis is that this is a result of centuries lived in a communal culture in frequently crowded conditions. If everyone were to go about pretending not to notice things – the way we do – then society probably couldn’t function. People will introduce you to their family with such descriptions as “This is Sister Two – she’s retarded. Sister Three here is the great beauty of the family, but unfortunately that got used up by the time Sister Four came around – she’s extremely plain.” All this said not just in hearing distance of the said sisters, but in front of their faces. It might seem cruel, but after a while it is immensely liberating. You have no need to worry about what people are saying behind your back – because they are saying it in front of your back. If that makes sense.
And so my bigness is one of the badges I carry in Vietnam.

The Houses of Ho Chi Minh City

Ho Chi Minh City is crowded by anyone's estimation.
Officially the population of the city is 9 million, though most experts say there are a couple of million on top of that. Even a cursory glance at the city's population will reveal that almost everyone you meet, and certainly everyone that works for you or serves you, is not officially a resident, so heaven knows how many people are actually living there.
It is crowded and cramped, and real estate has become insanely expensive - buying a house in the city area is far more expensive than buying a house in Sydney, for example, but people earn only a fraction of what people in Australia earn, so in real terms the cost of housing is truly astronomical.
So people tend to build up. Every time I return to Vietnam people in "The City" have added another floor to their houses, and long, steep and perilous stairways are very common in urban Saigon dwellings.
One stumbles upon some quite extraordinary architecture, and a distinct "Saigon" look has emerged in the last few years. I love buying all the Home Beautiful style magazines when I am there to see how the rich are building and decorating their often quite tiny homes.
Getting around in Ho Chi Minh City can be quite difficult, with houses hidden down a bewildering series of alleys, leaving you looking for addresses like 1/6/31/8/ bis Pham Van Hai. Each number indicates an alley you need to turn down, and heaven help you if you make a wrong turn - re-tracing your steps can take up a lot of time, and leave you emerging into streets and districts you've never seen before.
The residents of Saigon, too, are inveterate shopkeepers, and houses frequently feature a business of some sort in the downstairs front room. Frequently, in order to get to an actual house, you have to tramp through the premises of a cafe, a pharmacy or a dressmaker.