Hunting for BIG UNDIES
How to get lucky in small-bottomed Asia
Pretty, and cheap. But not cotton and not BIG
I’ve been travelling in Asia for 12 months. Every time I go to Bangkok or Kuala Lumpur or anywhere with big shopping malls, I put undies on the shopping list, and somehow I find more interesting things to do than shop for undies.
I like to think of myself as a person who doesn’t need much. But it’s not true. I need lots of undies, big ones. In 32-35 degree heat and 90% humidity, I can change three times a day. That adds up to lots of undies, and with my beast of washing machine they come out stretched and mangled. Today, too afraid to hang my undies out on the clothesline for all to see. It was time, I threw them out.
It was time for new.
In my previous life, shopping for undies wasn’t a problem. I’d go to the shop and buy them. Simple.
Not so simple or easy Asia in the land of small bottoms– I was about to find out.
Yesterday, I went shopping at Ba Le market in Hoi An. It’s where I shop for fresh produce. The market is for locals, not expats or tourists. But I am relaxed, and it is such a nice cool morning and I’m going to the market, anyway. I’ll snag a bargain by shopping locally, I tell myself, today I need new undies.
From my home it’s a fifteen-minute walk to the market and once inside the hall, I discover three stores dedicated to undies and [small] bras. I’m feeling optimistic.
Shop One:
I use my pidgin English. “Cotton undies,” I say, repeating “Cotton” a few times. She keeps offering me varieties. All so pretty. None are cotton.
“Cotton,” she says, holding up pink nylon panties.
“Cotton” she says trying to convince me because she needs her ‘morning sale’, it’s important here, to set the day up for good luck.
“Cotton, these not cotton, and the sticker may say L but defiantly not large enough” I say, talking to myself.
I moved on to shop number two. I am now searching for undies.
"Cotton”
Shop Two:
“Cotton undies,” I say, holding up a pair so she knows I want undies. Her English is a little better. She digs through piles, then opens a large bag hiding in the back. I wait. There are of pretty pairs hanging from the rafters. She is taking a while. My hopes soar, but not for long.
“Yes, cotton, very good. Do you have a larger size?” I can tell she’s not catching my words.
When ordering a bottle of water, I know from experience it is not ‘large’–but ‘BIG water.’
“BIG,” I say. “BIG undies,” demonstrating the width with my hands.
She understands!
Smiling, she is holding them up like a winner at CWA Bingo night, and there before my bulging eyes on a coat hanger is a “BIG” pair of cotton undies with legs!
I’m horrified that my life has come to this…
My shoulders drop. She’s watching my face, and our mutual disappointment becomes a bonding moment. Because she’s so sweet and has tried so hard.
“Cotton - BIG - cotton, not this BIG perhaps,” I say again quietly to myself.
“Me no have,” she replies.
“Cam On,” I say in my best Vietnamese. “Thank you, it’s okay.”
We part smiling and I promise to bring my small bottomed friends.
I move on to shop Three:
Shop Three:
The stakes are higher. I am now hunting for undies. Shop Three is practically a designer store, but to be honest, I’m not feeling like I’m going to get lucky. Not in the undies department anyway, my thoughts drift back to David Jones second floor.
“Xinh Chao,” I say.
“Xing Chao,” she replies in the lyrical sing-song way I’m still practicing.
“BIG undies,” I say, doing my size charades. She replies in Vietnamese– “Oh, no English” But she understands the size bit. Now we just need to manage the cotton part.
I’m hunting through piles of undies that could be poly cotton, but they’re small, smaller or tiny. I say “Cotton, BIG, cotton,” I keep hunting and I find a pile that looks like bamboo. “Cotton,” she says. I don’t argue. “BIG cotton,” I say, not expecting a miracle.
As before, she brings a hidden plastic bag from the back of her shop, and together, heads bent, we hunt for BIG. She shows me her version of BIG.
I hold them stretched against my body and we both start laughing. She digs deeper and finds a few pairs we decide are BIG– not cotton, but bamboo– and they’ll do.
I grimace. Muddy pink, sage green, and dusty blue. I only wear skin tone, black, grey, or maybe French navy. Now apparently I wear any shade of ghastly and bamboo.
She made her morning sale: three pairs of BIG almost-cotton undies. Both our morning started lucky. I pay her 120,000 which is about $7.00 AUD. I’d say it was a bargain, don’t you?
What’s next.
I’m about to go hunting for an espresso, and in the local market, away from the tourist areas that could be unrealistic, I will let you know how I go. But I’m feeling lucky.
So lucky.
Sometimes getting lucky in Asia means adjusting your definition of everything– including cotton, BIG, personal style and what makes up a successful shopping trip.
Stay curious.
Yours truly
P.S I hunt for cafes across Asia to write my novel and these ‘Espresso Stories’ for Substack as a writing practice. Some of it is true—a lot is not, all of it exploring the beautiful chaos of travel and my writing life.
*Share them with a friend to enjoy with their morning brew.