Wrangling the dangling

Cutting down on cable clutter

One of the things about Saigon that many notice—after the traffic—is the overhead electrical wires. And television cables and internet cables and telephone lines. Nothing is buried so it’s all swaying overhead, the lines sagging from the weight. Some of it’s legal and much of it’s not.



With Hanoi’s big birthday coming up, the rest of the country is on red alert for beautification projects. Ho Chi Minh City’s electrical lines were numbered from the get-go.


The cleanup crews arrive with their clipboards of confirmed businesses. Those cables are secured neatly with giant zap straps. The rest are cut. We’ve wondered how many irate folks suddenly found themselves without electricity, telephone or cable TV because of the daunting task of trying to determine which lines are legit and which aren't.


For now, the cleanup project is only targeting main streets. There are simply too many to do otherwise. But it’s funny, we only notice now when the wires are cut. A block-long cleanup leaves a gap like a missing tooth from the smile of the street.

Get your own Picasso

Forging art for the masses





Not only does Buffalo Surf have a new domain, so do we. When we took possession of our new place one of the first things we wanted to do was try to cover up some of the freshly-painted walls.

Our landlord adores pink. We do not.

So off we went to purchase a da Vinci and a couple of Klimts.

Copycat paintings are an art form here. The small shops selling paint-by-number canvases and talented free-hand pieces line not only the streets of the backpacker ghetto, but the upscale shopping boulevards like Dong Khoi. Favourite masterpieces can be whipped up in a matter of days (if it’s not already in stock). In fact, who needs the long lineups at overpriced museums around the world when you can flip through 400 years or so of art stacked against a wall? Cubism to the Renaissance to Abstract Expressionism and back to Baroque, and all in an afternoon.

Bring in your beloved pet or family BBQ photos and have them immortalized in oil. Popular images include Warhol’s bright triptych series of “cowboy” Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, but with a local twist. DayGlo Mao Tse-tungs and Che Guevaras hang from most shop doorways.

But we left empty-handed. We’re still fairly sure no art epoch exists that can mask the pinkness of our pink.

Domain disarray

The politics of punctuation




It all began with a knock on the door. Given where we live, I wasn't surprised. It was only a matter of time before someone wanted me to answer a few questions. Is this your blog? Politics, as ever, is a delicate topic no matter where you live.

But this time it wasn’t the politics of ideology and a Communist government still feeling its way with foreigners. This time it was the politics of theft. The knock was the realization my domain name had been hijacked and was being held for ransom to the highest bidder.

After a complicated struggle and a twist of Machiavellian creativity, it was over. I no longer own buffalosurf.com but rather buffalo-surf.com. A “consulting” company in Australia owns the blog’s original name. I own the hyphen.

And in politics, perspective is everything.

Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll own an umlaut.


* I heartily thank the annoyed readers who sent emails, demanding to know where Buffalo Surf disappeared to. I hope you—and them—continue reading.