Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

I'm very tempted to say that Vietnam was my favorite port up to this
point in the trip, and boy, do I have the t-shirts to back it up. More
than anything, it really made me reflect, some of which will be
included in this email, because I've been using these to collect all
my thoughts, so I won't be offended if you skip over some of those
parts.
We sailed down the Saigon River on the Thursday morning. It was
overcast, but slowly, the scene around us began to light up. We passed
small fishing boats with men who happily waived to our Goliath of a
ship as it passed through the narrow river, rocking the boats in our
wake. There were small villages on the banks and people working in the
rice paddies. The entire scene was very peaceful, until we got a
little bit closer to Ho Chi Minh City, where we began to see large
industrial ships.
My first day, I visited the Cu Chi tunnels, an underground network of
tunnels built by the Viet Cong as a means of self defense and attack
against Americans during the Vietnam War, or the "American War" as it
is known in Vietnam. It was a great experience because it showed us a
perspective of the war that we don't often get to see, but at the same
time it was a very eerie experience for me. We walked around the
grounds in Cu Chi where there were bomb craters, tunnels and examples
of traps. One of the hardest things for me to see were the traps,
because the way our guide talked about them was so different than what
we, as Americans, are used to. She would refer to the Vietnam as "we"
stating that "we set up these traps for you guys." The way she
described the traps was more blunt than we are used to hearing in
reference to death. Yes, we, a society that glorifies death, does not
tend to talk about it in the blatant language that she was using. I
think the strangest part of her speech was the fact that she was
describing Americans as a faceless enemy. In school, we have always
learned about dehumanizing the enemy as a tactic in war, but it's a
very strange feeling when hearing about the side you're used to
hearing about as "the good guys." Even as someone who believes in
equality for all people, it was a very weird feeling to hear about the
American soldiers as such an un-human entity. Another eerie experience
from Vietnam was how familiar all of the scenery looked, only I am
used to seeing this scenery with helicopters flying over it and plumes
of smoke rising from the ground. To see it now, with kites in the
place of where planes used to be made it seem like something out of a
dream in which you know you recognize the place, but it is completely
different than what you are used to seeing, if that makes any sense.
After we were taken around all of the traps and bomb-sites, we
arrived at a shooting range where we could shoot AK-47s and M-60s. I
really just wanted to try it, because growing up in Danville, CA, I've
never even seen a gun that wasn't attached to a police officer's belt,
let alone shot one. I picked an AK-47 and shared the ten bullets with
two of my friends because I really only wanted to shoot one. Honestly,
I really wish that I hadn't. It just felt wrong to me for some reason.
It was a scary feeling holding this gun in a place that had seen so
much violence, and as soon as I shot it, I knew that I never wanted to
have to be around one of them again. It was so loud and powerful, I
cannot even imagine what it must be like to have to use one, or have
one used against you, in this type of setting. It's cliché, but it was
really a shattering of innocence for me. I guess that it's kind of a
fun fact to be able to say that I've shot an AK-47, but I hope it's an
experience that I never have to repeat.
The same goes for the tunnels. For those of you who know me well, you
know that I have a bit of anxiety about tight spaces or crowded areas.
Well, the Cu Chi tunnels are barely big enough to crouch through. You
basically have to waddle through them, although this hurt my knees so
I crawled through them. The tunnels are about four feet tall and three
feet wide, maybe, and Vietnam is not exactly a country with a pleasant
climate, so we were drenched in sweat the second we entered into this
confined space. To make it worse, people in front of me kept stopping
to take pictures. I kept urging people (maybe not completely politely)
to keep moving, because I was stuck. There was no way forward when
they stopped, no way back, no way up, and no way down and I was
completely aware of this. I had to repeatedly tell myself that I was
going to be ok and that people have made it through far worse than
this. I was really proud of myself for making it through. I'm not sure
that I would do it again, but it was a fear that I just needed to
face. And we only went 50 meters! That's half a football field whereas
the people who actually used these tunnels would go miles through them
without resurfacing. There are air holes that are constructed by
sticking a piece of bamboo into the ground and allowing termites to
eat all the way through. We saw small holes sticking out of tree
stumps that were air holes and were completely unnoticeable, except
for the fact that they were pointed out to us. The Cu Chi tunnels,
while I'm not sure I'd be jumping up and down and raising my hand to
go back, was one of the most interesting trips I have been on so far.
It was really disconcerting, but a good experience to see "the other
side." I think it's really easy to look at a war and see a good side
and bad side, but to remember and see first hand that both sides are
filled with people who are trying to survive at any cost really puts
human relationships into perspective.
The second day, I left for an overnight trip to the Mekong Delta.
After a four-hour bus ride, we arrived in Can Tho, the most urban city
along the Delta. Can Tho, while it may be a modern city for this area
looks like Fargo, North Dakota compared to Ho Chi Minh City. (My two
best friends on the ship are from Fargo, I had to take a small shot at
them while they're reading over my shoulder!). The delta is filled
with small houses along the banks of the river. All of the houses are
on stilts and are partially built over the river. Some of the
inhabitants even live on houseboats. A common scene is a man or woman
lying on a hammock on their houseboat with the laundry hanging up just
outside of their small covered room. The first day, we leisurely
sailed along the river passing fishing boats, houseboats and small
rickety stilted houses. This was one of my favorite areas, because all
of the people seemed so at peace with their lives and their families.
It was so nice to see families outside sitting with their feet over
the river talking or just being with each other. If I have learned
anything from this trip, it is how much I appreciate the simple
things. Again, I know that sounds cliché, but this life on the river
looked so appealing, I think mostly because it reminded me of my
summers in Indiana on Winona Lake.
That night, I had a fairly interesting experience involving a $5
massage. Some of the girls from my trip and I decided we would get
massages in our hotel. They were only $5 and everyone has told us that
Vietnam is the place to get massages, so we decided it would be a fun
cultural experience…
That was mistake number one.
After paying for our massages, we were each led into a room with a
masseuse. Here's the awkward part. They wouldn't leave the room to let
us change, so I made sure I wrapped a towel around me and refused to
take off my shorts because I didn't want my masseuse staring at me
(I've heard from some of the other girls that they got ogled a little
bit). She didn't understand why I wasn't willing to completely undress
in front of her and kept commanding me to strip, before she finally
just gave up. The massage started out very relaxing, then all of a
sudden, the small woman climbs up on the table and starts putting all
of her weight on my back. Then she starts smacking my back, as if that
is supposed to feel good. This went on for a while with her squatting
up on the table with me, slapping my back, legs and arms. Finally, the
hour was over, and I was feeling a little bit less than relaxed. In
fact, I'm pretty sure that my back was bruised.
Here's a life lesson for you: Don't get $5 massages in Vietnam.
To ease our pain, we decided to get some ice cream on the balcony,
which overlooked the delta and the city before going to bed.
The next morning was one of my favorite days on the trip thus far. We
woke up early and walked down the street to board a small bumboat and
sailed down the river to the Cai Rang floating market. At this market,
farmers typically arrive at sunrise or earlier to give their crops to
larger boats, who act as the middlemen and sell the fruits and
vegetables to customers. Each boat has a pile of crops, such as
pineapple or watermelon and several people preparing and selling them.
They also often have long poles, which have at the top a sample of the
crop to show other boats what is being sold. Occasionally, the farmers
themselves in small canoe-like boats will sell their own crops.
Typically this consists of a man standing on the back of the boat,
paddling and a woman in a rice hat squatting at the front of the boat
selling and navigating. These boats will attach themselves to other
boats, generally just by holding onto the side and attempt to sell
their products. There are even a few boats featuring commercial soft
drinks and waters for customers. Again, it was such a peaceful and
authentic experience to be out with local people who are living their
daily lives, buying and selling fruits and vegetables aboard their
houseboats. I would have given anything to be able to board one of
those boats and climb into a hammock and just watch the business
unfold, as many of the local people were doing.
***This little anecdote didn't really fit in anywhere, so I'm just
going to insert it here. The first day on the Mekong Delta, we stopped
at a little garden for lunch. At this garden was a humungous python
that the man took out and let us take pictures with. My friend Erin
and I wanted one more go with the python, because we both thought he
was pretty cool. The man comes over to us and says, "I'm going to go
inside, put it back when you're done." So there we were holding this
massive python not really sure what we were supposed to do. This snake
did not go back into his cage willingly, and he was heavy. It was
quite a sight to see us struggling to put the python, who probably
weighed as much as we did, back into a fairly small cage, where he
clearly did not want to be. I just thought that story was funny.***
We arrived back in Ho Chi Minh City on our third night there and
spent a little bit of time in the city before coming back to the ship
and crashing for the night.
The fourth day, two of my friends and I decided to hit Ho Chi Minh
City. We had a little bit of money that was burning holes in our
pockets. We headed to the Ben Thanh market, a large indoor market near
the Rex Hotel in the Ho Chi Minh City center. This market was
absolutely crazy, I think would be the best way to describe it. There
were probably hundreds of different hole-in-the-wall shops and kiosks
all promoting different items, from knock-off purses to silk robes to
fish. (Parts of it didn't smell so great). The best part about this
market is that almost everything can be bargained for. I loved
pretending that I wasn't that interested in an item that I really
wanted to knock off a few dollars from the price. It was a lot of fun
because to many of the women selling the items, it was clear that
bargaining was a sport. I think a lot of the time they assumed that I
was a naïve foreigner who would just buy the item at whatever price
they quoted, because whenever I gave them a lower price they looked
surprised and laughed at me a little before joining in on the
negotiating. (I hope they weren't laughing because they knew that they
were still ripping me off even with the price I gave them). A phrase
that is popularly used among the vendors is "same same." For example,
one of my friends wanted to find a purse to match a wallet she had
bought and the woman held a purse next to her wallet and told her
"same same," meaning that they matched (even though they really
didn't). There are t-shirts sold all over the city that say "same
same" on the front and "…but different" on the back. I refused to buy
one of those shirts until I heard someone say it, so I kept trying to
prompt women to say it by asking them if two products were similar. My
friends were laughing at me because they knew what I was trying to do.
Finally, I heard someone say it so I ran to the nearest t-shirt kiosk
and bought several of them.
After a long day of shopping, we headed to restaurant called Pho
2000, a Vietnamese restaurant that serves…Pho! Pho is a beef broth
soup with rice noodles and it is delicious. It would have been better
had it been cold outside, but we were so worn out from the long day of
bargaining that it still tasted good. The restaurant had pictures of
Bill Clinton in it, who had visited Pho 2000 several years ago.
Interestingly, a lot of the places that I have been to seem to be
boasting photos of Bill Clinton, maybe he did Semester at Sea, too.
The final day was an interesting one. You didn't think I would send
an email without a good taxi story did you? Well, this one is even
better than the last ones, because it involves a motorcycle.
Here's a little bit of context for the story. The night before, my
friend Katrina and I had gone to an internet café that was close to
the port because I had to put together my schedule for next fall and
the ship internet is too slow. We each took motorcycle taxis there
because it wasn't far and there were no cabs directly outside of the
port. It was a great ride, and I'm glad that it wasn't far because it
was a little bit unnerving.
That's the background information.
The next day, I was supposed to meet my friend Caleb back at the ship
at 1 because he was going to the Cu Chi tunnels that morning. There
was a shuttle that had been taking us from the port to the city center
so that we didn't have to take cabs. With all of the motorbike
traffic, it generally took about half an hour to get there. I had done
some last minute shopping that morning and was waiting for the shuttle
at about noon to take me back to the ship so that I could meet up with
Caleb. At about 12:15, they told me the shuttle wasn't leaving until
12:30, then at 12:30 they told me 12:45, then some kids asked again at
12:45 and the driver told them that they would leave in about another
20 minutes. My friend Jeanette was getting on the shuttle as they were
saying this, so I told her to turn around because we were getting a
cab. We took the cab back and got there at about quarter after one. I
was hoping that Caleb hadn't left yet, so I ran up to my room only to
find a note on my door telling me to meet Caleb at the Rex Hotel at
2:00. The Rex Hotel is where the shuttle picks us up, where I had just
been before I took the cab back. Fantastic. I threw my bags in my
room, ran back outside only to see that the shuttle wasn't there yet,
and once it got there, who knows how long it would have been before it
left to go back to the Rex Hotel. I was determined to meet up with my
friends for one last day around Ho Chi Minh City, so I walked out with
a couple of girls to where the motorcycles were. I found the man who
had driven me to the café the night before, a man that I trusted not
to rip me off or to take me into a back alley and rob me, threw on a
helmet and jumped on the back of the motorcycle to head back to the
city center. One thing about Ho Chi Minh City is that there are more
motorcycles than there is pavement for them to drive on. During rush
hour (about 5 pm) the traffic does not move. It would be faster to
walked through the sea of motorbikes. It's an incredible scene to look
out in front of you and see a blanket of shiny, colored helmets and
little else. Fortunately, we weren't driving through anything like
this, but there are few traffic laws, so that was a little bit scary
at times. After my twenty minute escape from death (just kidding mom
and dad, the motorcycles don't go more than about 10 mph because of
the traffic, but writing it that way makes the story sound way
cooler!), I finally made it back to the Rex Hotel in time to buy two
more "same same" shirts and meet up with Caleb. I have done more
things on this trip that I never thought that I would be brave enough
to do, and this was definitely one of them. It was quite the
experience.
Caleb and I decided to go to the War Remnants Museum, a museum that
we really had no idea where to find, other than drawings of a map that
Caleb had in his notebook. We ended up taking the most indirect route
possible, but we made it there. The museum was quite sobering. It was
mostly photographs of the Vietnam war with other wars interspersed. I
won't go into the details too much, because some of the pictures were
pretty gruesome, especially those that showed the effects of Agent
Orange and victims of bombings. One photo and caption made my mouth
drop, literally. It was a photograph of a family that looked
terrified, looking off into the distance. The caption was a quote from
the photographer, which, paraphrased, said, "This family was about to
be shot by a group of soldiers. Before the killings took place, I
yelled 'Hold it!' took the picture and walked away. As I walked away I
heard several screams followed by gunshots." I could not believe that
and I don't think I need to say why. It was good to see that this
museum wasn't completely attacking Americans, however. It showed a
rounded view of the war and put a human face to both sides, something
that gets lost when people talk about number of casualties or
injuries.
Throughout the trip, it was so interesting to see so many different
perspectives on the war. It was also interesting to see that there are
no lingering negative feelings toward Americans, at least in South
Vietnam, where I was. The whole experience was very emotional for me,
especially because someone that I love very much was there during the
war, an fact that made some of the experiences come alive for me much
more deeply.
I really did love Vietnam, for all of its intricacies and
contradictions. In the Mekong Delta region, the women wore rice hats
and carried baskets on poles over their shoulders. In Ho Chi Minh
City, people wore bike helmets and carried their babies on motorcycles
with them. I even saw the occasional family of four all on one
motorcycle.
I feel like a really pushed my comfort zone in this port, something
that I before Semester at Sea, I was wary of doing, and I feel like I
have grown so much since, say, Brazil, when I was scared to go out
with anything with any value for fear of being mugged.
Vietnam was a port that I was very sad to leave, and one that I hope
to go back to some day.
We get to Hong Kong tomorrow and from Hong Kong I will be flying to
Beijing to see the Great Wall. The ship is rocking more than usual
right now and I'm getting a little…green, so I better wrap this up.