I’ve been uhm-ing and ah-ing about how to make this blog more personal to me. A bit of spice in what will be lost in a sea of travel blogs. It’s great talking about life as an expat and teacher, but I also live a pretty colorful, confusing life aside from this and I want to document certain ridiculousness in more diary vibe entries.
I wasn’t supposed to come back to Vietnam. I was setting sail to pastures new landing a new job in Korea, supposedly promised to work in the capital, Seoul. I was home for the summer gearing up to start my new adventure, however, living with my family wasnt working out and I had somehow ended up with a boyfriend that really gave me the willies. Concluding that it was insanely hard to catch a vibe, I rashly booked a flight back to Ho Chi and ditched my dreams of meeting BTS in Korea.
Now, I had booked a veryyyy expensive flight with no flat, no job and no one to live with. Desperately sending out CV’s and scourging Facebook flat rent groups I kept my secret to myself that I would, in fact, be fucking off in less than 10 days. In this time, my best friend had convinced me to work at a festival, one that I didn’t want to go too and honestly did not have the bloody time to attend. Unfortunately, being a woman of my word (one of my best and worst qualities – I feel like you should learn to say no to things you just don’t want to do) this inevitably went Pete Tong and I ended up getting horrendously drunk and acting a fool due to the abyss of uncertainty that lay before me.
Oh well. Can’t regret what you don’t remember right? Back at home, the next few days would be a mad rush of trying to pull my shit together so my landing in Ho Chi would be as comfortable as possible. I got a job at a company that looked pretty dope and ascertained that only psychos accepted a flat member without meeting them so I would have to get an Airbnb when I land and work from there.
I found an apartment I loved right on the river. A gem in the sea of soulless flats. I told the estate agent (Alex) that if she could haggle it down to 600 dollars a month – I’d move in the next day. It worked! I could move out of this Air BnB that I had been creeping around (isn’t it weird that you are just in someone’s flat with them and you have absolutely no idea who they are?) Now, this is where the confusion happened. Alex, the agent that took me around the apartment I loved, had coincidently messaged me the same time that another chick from a huge Real Estate company had messaged me organizing a show around of apartments. My brain automatically assumed that they worked for the same company.
The next day I was the definition of hot and bothered. I locked myself out of the Air BnB and had to call the host at his place of work. All my shit just didn’t fit inside of my suitcase. The heat was unbearable. I get in a Grab (taxi) and turn up at the office where I thought Alex worked, immediately confused and irritated that I couldn’t just go straight to the apartment. I had all my bags with me and felt like the biggest tit imaginable as people bustled past me and side-eyed me in their expensive-looking suits. A girl called Sarah who greeted me with a big smile and a hug (I’m not a hugger) told me we were going to look around more apartments and asked why did I bring my bags? You want to move in today? I was literally about to explode. Of course, I did? Are you actually kidding? She then leads me to the desk where they had to take about 4 pictures of me before leading me into the elevator to wheel my suitcase through their office to store while we were scheduled to LOOK AT OTHER APARTMENTS. WHAT. IS. GOING. ON.
By this point I was being straight-up rude. I’m embarrassed, confused and at the end of my tether. Where is Alex I demanded? I don’t want this stupid apartment anymore. A look of sheer confusion passed through Sarah’s face as she racked her brains trying to think of an Alex she knew, the poor girl was as nonplussed as I was. It then dawned on me that I’d made a colossal fuck-up. This company that had researched me, made a brochure of houses that they thought I’d like and had paid for my taxi had absolutely nothing to do with Alex and the house I’d agreed to sign. How do I wangle myself out of this one?
I told Sarah I had to make a call. Furiously I dialed Alex’s number and told her what was going on. She laughed at me for being so stupid down the phone, which enraged me even more; ‘DO YOU THINK IM LAUGHING?’ She then ordered me a taxi so I could get the FUCK, ASAP after this shit.
Anywayyyy, I’m now sitting in the apartment that Alex showed me and have done my best to forget the whole experience. Just say yikes and move on.
Happy Friday everybody.