What's app doc?

This is the story of how I used my phone to protect my balls from harmful radiation in Vietnam.

_______

It's no exaggeration to say that ever-improving technology has improved almost every aspect of travelling during my life.

I’m old enough to remember post-cards being sent unironically, long distance phone calls that cost more than a good meal and waiting four weeks to realise you had your thumb over the lens.

In Vietnam, for the first time ever when travelling, I brought a local sim and enjoyed unlimited access to the internet on my phone.

Of all technological progress, being able to access the internet anywhere really has changed everything.  No need to worry about storing maps offline, hunting out wifi hotspots to share your latest digital brag or losing irreplaceable photos if your phone should be suddenly snatched from your hand by a thief on a motorbike.

However, of all the online tools, the most unexpected thing which has really come into its own has been translation.  I downloaded Google's translation app (a babel-fish clone) for a bit of fun while bored in a station. I was astounded how far this technology has come.  It quickly became indispensable.

For those unaware, not only can you use text translation, you can also speak into it in a range of languages and have it read out the translation back to you. In some languages, you can just point your camera at signs and the phone quickly tells you what it says. Hopefully.

It is on the whole quite accurate, with a few hilarious exceptions. We tried to strike up a conversation with a friendly waitress with limited English skills. We hit a conversational hurdle so I whipped out my phone and she told me that she loved the smell of my milky cobra thighs. We still don't know what she meant.

The translation tool came into its own one day when I wasn't feeling well. Too much sleeping with the air conditioning on had given me a chest infection and I'd been in bed for a day or two. I generally try to avoid doctors when travelling but after coughing up a bit of blood one morning, I thought it was time to get checked out.

A local doctor was sent for. His English was limited, my Vietnamese stretched to two or three words.

Out came the phone, I quickly explained and he quickly diagnosed and said I needed a chest X-ray. He charged me less than two US dollars. Almost nothing to me, though a huge amount to some I’m sure.

Our hotel receptionist offered to drive us to the hospital and come along with us. I'm so grateful she did, as she did more than a translation app could do. She took us to the better, less crowded university hospital and also negotiated the 'local' price for me, which tourists don't usually get.

On entering, we walked past a trolley with a man who seemed to have been in a car accident and was bleeding heavily. I tentatively sat on a nearby bed and told Alicia to touch NOTHING. My trusty alcohol gel was poised. Within a few minutes, (after some more successful translation) I was given blood tests and the results within one hour and waited almost no time for an X-ray (unlike some of the poor local people).  

I walked into the room and was greeted by an X-ray machine that looked older than me and still used a film plate. I was asked to take my shirt off, stand facing the wall and prepare to be probed. By photons.

I suddenly remembered something was missing from all this and got slightly nervous I was about to be accidentally sterilised. Being able to say 'do you have a lead plate so I can cover my genitals’ is a phrase I’m convinced I wouldn't know had I been taught Vietnamese for years.

So happily, my phone was able to translate and I stepped into a lead plate harness-thingy which happened to be hanging next to me, as the radiographer had forgotten about it.

So don’t let anyone ever tell you that keeping your phone in your pocket is bad for your balls!