How to do a plastic free food shop in Saigon

Saving money, eating less crap and getting to know my local area better: so far, going plastic free for food is working out alright.

I’ve come to a few eco-realisations over the past couple of weeks. The main one, though, is that if we want to solve the plastic pollution crisis and save even a scrap of clean ocean for future generations, we really do have to stop using plastic.

Even for the harder wearing plastics, re-cycling really isn’t the thing that you thought it was – with only 9% of the world’s plastic having ever been recycled. As for the single use plastics – the type that surrounds so much of our food – we know these can’t be recycled. Yet we use a whole lot of them every single day.

Last week, after finally penning the post that has been haunting me for months, I took a long, hard look around my apartment. In my fridge, almost everything was wrapped in plastic – from the lettuce to eggs to tofu. Similarly in my cupboards – rice, pasta, noodles – all in plastic. And the same in my bathroom – shampoos, face washes, hand soap: plastic, plastic, plastic. And not knowing how to in Ho Chi Minh, I haven’t been recycling any of it (I’m working on this – more on that later). While I’m not sure where my rubbish goes, from the look of the local stretch of the Saigon River, I can guess.

saigon river small
The Saigon river

And so, no longer able to pretend I don’t know what I know, I’ve set myself the challenge to go plastic free.

I don’t expect this to be easy. It is often excruciatingly hard work not to be given plastic with purchases, from bags to cutlery to straws to all manner of bizarre mini bags and flimsy films. Not known as one to shy away from a challenge, though, I’m game.

The first thing was to switch to buying my veg at the local market. Saigon is great for this – there are all manner of vegetables for sale on almost every street corner as well as eggs, meat, fish and tofu all without packaging. And so, armed with my reusable net bags (get yours from Coconam in Saigon) a sturdy canvas shopper and a plastic tub for tofu, I headed down to the street below my apartment and picked up my weekly shop. I was, without a shadow of a doubt, the strangest thing anybody had seen all day – very few foreigners brave the chaotic local markets for lack of language skills and fear of being overcharged. I can, however, report that all you need is the ability to point, smile and laugh – I think we all got a lot out of it. And if I was overcharged, I didn’t notice.

For dry goods I headed to Auchan, a French supermarket chain that has a few branches here in HCMC. At the Pham Van Dong branch I had heard that they have dispensers of nuts, beans, noodles and rice that you can fill your own containers with. My first purchase was almonds, which i filled a former (cleaned) peanut butter jar with. This prompted much hilarity at the till, as did my net bag full of noodles this weekend. Having seen me last week they were less surprised, however I suspect I am fast making a name for myself as the local crank.

 

Already the difference in my fridge is stark: it looks like a veritable vegetable market in there, which is very pleasing to the eye. My cupboards too are slowly shedding single use plastic thanks to Auchan, while I’m buying oils, vinegars, honey and spreads in glass bottles and jars. As for bread, I’m now heading to the bakery and transporting it home in either a paper bag from them or my own reusable bag.

I suspect there are some things I’m not going to be able to get without plastic packaging. This includes oats, which i eat almost every morning. If so I’ll be learning how to make rice porridge – which is delicious. Similarly, take aways are now out. I’ll be eating my own cooking at home or someone else’s in a restaurant or at a street food stall. Work lunches will no longer be taken from a carton over emails, while at home I’ll be getting to know my local eateries a little better while perhaps even improving my appalling Vietnamese. These are not unwelcome byproducts of going plastic free. (Indeed, one of my other eco realisations is that sustainably IS community. Again, more on that later).

Another unexpected benefit of ditching plastic is the way in which it has reduced choice. I’m sure I’m not alone in often being overwhelmed in supermarkets, my head spinning at the hundreds of different varieties of everything available. Now, though, I know exactly what I can get, where I can get it and at what time. This is oddly comforting. Plus, I’m not impulse buying snack food as I used to.

So: saving time and money, eating less crap and getting to know my local area and it inhabitants better: so far, going plastic free is working out alright.

Pondicherry on the cake: the French colonial grandeur of Puducherry, India

Pondicherry is a place of beauty, grace and tranquility that feels out of time, both eerie and deeply seductive

My last post not withstanding, Pondicherry (or Puducherry) is a wonderous place.

I arrived in town around mid afternoon, fresh from the 7am train from Madurai (one of the dirtiest and least friendly places I have ever visited) that was followed by a hair raising bus ride from Villupuram (most trains go here rather than Puducherry Station), where even the locals looked concerned and during which one woman berated the driver for a good ten minutes on his homicidal driving.

Thus, it must be admitted that the bar was set quite low for Pondicherry, or ‘Pondy’ as the locals lovingly refer to it. However, stepping into the heritage part of the city (“white town”, would you believe) I soon began to feel like Alice in Wonderland, or a visitor to the twilight zone.

The first curiosity was the almost complete absence of trash on the streets – far from the putrid piles of stinking plastic waste that adorn every other spare inch of India, the streets of Pondicherry barely sported a scrap of litter. This was enforced/encouraged by many signs extolling the virtues of not littering such as “Pondy won’t be the same if you litter” and – my personal favourite – “Beauty is our city, preserving it is our duty”. I was – and remain – stunned.

Second were the buildings; while I was aware the French had colonised Pondy, I didn’t expect that to mean much today – an assumption I perhaps based on Mumbai, which feels fully Indian despite a few grand old English buildings. However, what I found in Pondy were streets of pristine or gently fading eighteenth and nineteenth century French houses, schools, government buildings and churches; their gleaming white plaster columns supporting balconies decked in highly varnished mahogany and dripping in verdant vines and their walls painted joyful summer shades of egg yolk, rose and azure blue.

Moreover, these beautiful buildings were set into extraordinarily green and leafy boulevards, most of which led to the central Bharathi Park that is encased within ornate wrought iron gates and which itself is a magical green space bursting with fragrant foliage that provides shade for gently dozing tuk-tuk drivers and India’s ever tormented canines. At the centre of the park is a white marble monument so pristine it seemed to be radiating light for ten metres around – a gift, I later discovered, from Emperor Napoleon III commemorating the charitable endeavours of a notorious “harlot” of Hindu legend.

Exiting the park I then found myself facing Pondicherry’s sparkling seafront, the centre of which is marked by a glorious ten foot black marble statue of the Mahatma that – again – is remarkably pristine. The shoreline is equally spotless and was filled with Indian families basking in the late afternoon sun. Walking along the main beach road I also found a monumental garden dedicated to Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar, the law maker responsible for drafting India’s first constitution, at the back of which is an excellent free library that anyone can enter and peruse to learn more about the thoughts and policies of modern India’s most influential politicians and law makers. Later in the evening I discovered that the entire seafront is pedestrianised after 6pm to allow for completely safe evening promenading.

Perhaps most exciting for Westerner backpackers spent on veg curry and chappati, though, are the many, MANY wonderful French cafes and eateries that Pondy has to offer. There are far too many to list, but I would highly recommend Hot Breads and Baker Street for some of the best patisserie I have EVER eaten and the Art Cafe and Artika for a late afternoon coffee. Prices are high by Indian standards but for a two day blowout – it’s just the ticket. Restaurants range from the extravagant rooftop garden Rendevous to slightly lower key L’espace, the latter of which I enjoyed a beautifully cooked and seasoned poisson du jour avec pommes frites for 300 rupees, or £3.30. I didn’t try Rendevous due to prices touching the 900 rupee mark (which of course is still incredibly cheap by European standards), but which I am reliably informed boasts succulent steaks and an excellent wine list.

Finally – the shopping. As most who know me know, I generally hate shopping, especially when bargaining is involved. However, Pondy’s many handmade silver shops convinced me to part with some cash, as did a one-off craft market by the seafront and the extraordinarily modern and fresh boutique Ma Pondy Cherie, where I picked up a t-shirt from Mumbai based street fashion designer Jas Charanjiva, showing an Indian woman in traditional dress but flourishing a full-finger golden knuckle duster engraved with ‘BOOM.’

In terms of traditional Indian life, Pondy has little to offer – this is firmly an enclave for the wealthy and, more than in other Indian towns, white foreigners. I have not seen so many fashionable Europeans and glowing alabaster children idly cycling through leafy parks since Paris. There is also something a little sinister in the town’s order and cleanliness – something I have read is made possible by the fabulous wealth the Sri Aurobindo ashram generates from the thousands of spiritual seekers that visit every year from the West. As such the institution owns most of the real estate in the the town, and – I believe – is behind the strictly enforced clean street policy. Thus, while one cannot deny Pondicherry’s grace, beauty and elegance, I was left questioning exactly who gets to enjoy its peace and tranquility on a residential basis and at what cost. Nonetheless Pondicherry is a joy to visit, and a welcome respite from the glorious – but trying – chaos of mainland India.