South Vietnam

Thursday, July 27, 2006
Hello... You Buy Something OR Desire = Suffering

Hoi An is about 40k south of Da Nang, which we flew to in the mornign.
Nha Trang to Da Nang was flying from one former US military base to
another, though many buildigns were demolished, some were still
untouched and both airports had dozens of Quonset huts rusting into
oblivion in the encroaching jungle.

The city of Hoi An is one of the oldest surviving old cities in Vietnam,
complete with original architecture and houses and miraculously survived
the war and countless floods. The houses are chinese influenced, one or
two floors with big courtyards all painted shades of pale yellow.
Hibiscus and morning glory vines tumble from the tiled roofs and overhand
the storefronts. This had lead to a recent UNESCO-fication. For those
who don't know, UNESCO is a UN agency that picks sites of important
cultrual world heritage and preserves them through grants. This is
wonderful as it keeps the town original, but also draws throngs of
tourists and leads to a bit of a disneyfication, though still preferable
to giant hotels and high rises in historic places. It reminded me very
much of some of the colonial towns in central america- San Miguel,
Antigua, etc. Its absolutely beautiful and picturesque though, in spite
of major construction, with charming alleyways and exotic buildings along
the river. By nightfall the town takes on a still more magical and
exotic air, lit by paper and silk lanterns reflecting in the river.

The guidebooks described the town as a shopping haven, which we thought we would successfully avoid, but the stores and everyone on the streets kept calling us in, (hello, you buy something!) until we each ultimately ended up with a few more cutom made clothes than we anticipated. It kind of lead to a stressful experience of appointments and returning to the shops repeatedly, a very apt experience of desire = suffering. The people can make anything though, its incredible. We went to a shoe store that would custom make to your feet any shoand the place was filled with handmade perfect imitation nikes in any colors or materials you'd like, I got myself a pair of custom fake asics for $10. I also got a perfect imitation of my favorite cowboy shirt, which had recently fallen apart.

The food here, oh, its been amazing all over again. A french restaurant
with patisserie attached serving the best pain au chocolat I've had
outside of france, along with incredible nicoise and crab sandwiches.
Dinner was a set of courses, each more amazing than the one before it.
Cau Lau, the local specialty made from water only froma certain secret
well in the town- roasted pork in a clear broth with noodles and herbs,
more fried pork "croutons" absorbing the liquid. "roses" of ground shrimp
in wontons with exquisite dipping sauces, rice omelettes fried to crispy
perfection and rolled up with herbs, and a beautifully presented sliced
grilled stuffed squid, costing mere pennies. These were all augmented
with stacks of herbs- peppermint, spearmint, vietnamese mint, basil, thai
basil, lemon basil and an assortment of less pleasant vietnamese herbs.

The following night we learned to cook at another restaurant, at which we
learned the secrets of spring rolls, a delicious squid salad, and stuffed
fish grilled in banana leaves, as well as eatnig pork and shrimp
dumplings. These countries are surprisingly unfriendly to vegetarians and
vegans (not to mention kosher and halal dieters). Free breakfast
interpreted banana pancake with chocolate as banana omlet with chocolate
milk, but close enough.

We managed to get one of the last seats on the reunification express train
from Hoi An to Hue, which was more striking landscapes, as our trained
lumbered its way through lush jungle mountains, precariously winding on
cliffs that overlooked empty white sand beaches with turquouse water and
the occasional floating village hundres of feet below. Through the jungle
it was also clear how impossible a guerilla war would have been to win,
the thickness of it and the sheer size of the jungle made it seem
impenetrable to anyone who hadnt spent their life there.

Monday, July 24, 2006
Mui Ne

Mui Ne has been a beautiful beach town, and we landed a room about ten
feet from the beach sand, and thirty feet from the waves, which lulled us
to sleep in our little bungalow. Spent the first day on the beach, and
ate an incredible dinner next door at a little vietnamese place, having
lemongrass grilled squid and a grilled whole fish with some kind of
delicious essence on it. They gave us deep friend bananas for dessert.

The second day we rented a motorbikle and managed to not die on the way to
the great red sand dunes a few miles up the road. I only had one
"incident" of "crashing" the bike into a cafe in the fishing village up
the road, much to the amusement of the locals eating their breakast of
cigarettes, baguette and coffee. The dunes were very dramatic, as
enormous dunes tend to be, and much like those we saw in Morocco only a
year ago- of course, the Sahara didnt have a blue ocean in the distance.
Lunch was a frustrating affair which involved undercooked food and
ill-behaved children, one of whom threw a coconut shell at Olivia's head.
Its a damn good thing they don't have tipping here, because they obviously
would have gotten nothing for their level of service and hospitality.
Survived the drive back, and watched the monsoon roll in and the few kite
surfers scramble for cover on the beach. Returned to the same dinner
place where we had a steamed whole fish with ginger and onions-
incredible, and the best spring rolls I've ever had. Glass noodle wrapped
shrimp rolls, friend to a perfect crisp and accompanied by more rice paper
and the requisite stack of fresh herbs that alone would cost 20$ at whole
foods.

Morning we were up to have a last beach morning before the bus to Nha
Trang, which we shared with the Saigon high school soccer team, making
for a unique busride expereince. The view out the window was amazing.
First winding through the giant white sand dunes, pocketed with lotus
ponds like miniature oasises. Further north the south china sea on our
right and fog slowly descending on the marble mountains to the left,
which seemed to jut starkly out of the impossibly flat and impoissibly
day-glo green rice paddies. Finally arriving in Nha Trang as the rain broke, Our Nha Trang hotel, the Perfume Grass Inn
is about the nicest place we've had, a pity we cant stay longer before
heading to Hoi An tomorrow AM.


Saturday, July 22, 2006
It Ain't Coca-Cola, Its Rice

We headed out for the Cao Dai temple early this morning to view the grand cathedral of Vietnam's homegrown religious cult, (though it is two million strong) Cao Daism worships Buddha, Jesus, Confucius and Lao Tzu, and counts among their saints Charlie Chaplin, Winston Churchill and Victor Hugo. Go figure. Their grand cathedral, predictably, was an uttlerly insane piece of architecture that looks as if Walt Disney had designed the vatican. On acid. With only day-glo paint. But the service itself was interesting, though overall maybe not worth the hours it took to get all the way out there. Going into and out of Saigon itself takes forever given the traffic, which means it takes about an hour to go about ten miles out of the city limits, and then driving beyond the city is hardly easy.

From the temple we visited the Cu Chi tunnels, where the vietcong dug a 100+mile long, 100 foot deep tunnel system to hide from the americans. They lived, worked, performed surgery, planned operations all inside these claustrophobic clay tunnels. First we got a chance to watch a completely ridiculous propaganda movie about the "peaceful cu chi people and their farming way of life" before the "devil face american bomb destroyed their peaceful ways" and their great innovations of a "tunnel system unlike any other system in the world" and various descriptions of heroic peasants who killed hundreds of americans, etc etc. After this simpsons-esque film (which Olivia and I were the only ones laughing at), we got a chance to tour the grounds. Speakers hidden in the trees played war sound effects interspersed with patriotic northern vietnam songs, and we got a chance to look at some extremely grisly looking VC booby-traps, with graphic illustrations. Finally we got to see the tunnels themselves, and crawl on hands and knees through the tunnels, which were slightly larger than my body, having been widened for western tourists. Only a few arm-sized milipedes in the tunnels themselves, none of the scorpions I'd read about, then again, it was rather dark. The tour wound up at a firing range, with the opportunity to fire off a few AK47 rounds, (Olivia opted out of this part of the tour). The gift shop stocked the typical tacky vietnam goods, plus rusted old zippos and american dogtags for sale. Returned to Saigon to an incredible dinner, again at Bao. Reprise of the rolled grilled beef rolls, and the added grilled crab vermicelli with black pepper. Amazing.

The next morning we spent wandering around the city, as the only bus choices were either 7am or 8 pm, not the most convenient. Cholon, the Chinatown, was disappointingly similar to any other Chinatown I've visited in any major city. The French Quarter was very pleasant to stroll around, cafes, colonial architecture, and leafy boulevards. Whiled the time away at french cafes over iced coffee and cheesecake before getting on the late bus to Mui Ne.

The only bad part of the day was 1. losing my ATM card, 2. Writing a much better version of this and having it erase, and 3. The bus getting in at 2 am to a tiny beach town.

Did I mention also that I got a gray hair last week? This was my first and a highly unpleasant experience that I felt was overshadowed by various heavy entries, so am only mentioning it now to not appear extraordinarily shallow.

Friday, July 21, 2006
Same Same

Got up and had a good breakfast across the street, finally managing to convince the restaurant not to load so much sugar into our coffee until its a vicously sticky syrup. We wandered around HCMC, which was quite a lot nicer by daylight, more French and cosmopolitan feeling, though the third world grime is still covering everything in sight. Olivia got a great silk shirt/top and skirt made at a tailor, and fromt here we headed to the war remnants museum (formerly the war crimes museum). It was closed for lunch, so we spent some time exploring the Pagoda of the Jade Emperor, a strange and very chinese feeling place with amazing light shafts coming in through the thick incense smoke, against bizarre giant statues of old emperors and the more standard golden buddhas. I managed to get in some great pictures, and we stumbled back in the heat across the city to the museum.

It was a standard third world museum, though very strange to see an entire building and multiple exhibits dedicated to the horrors that were "the american war of aggression." Exhibits ranged from the My Lai and other similar massacres, to the environmental and physical effects of Agent Orange (including jars with deformed fetuses), and photo after photo of bombing raids, deaths and massive destruction. The museum was decidedly one sided, though did include an exhibit on worldwide and US protests to the war, although there really arent many sides. Our side was clearly both wrong and futile. People were so passionate about this forty years ago, refusing to give in and insisting that the US fight, and in the end it didnt matter at all that we lost. Communism didnt spread, the people were better off than they were under a US puppet regime. All that was accomplished was enormous, catastrophic suffering on both sides. It was eerie in light of current events as well, to see how angry the world was at the arrogance of the US, fearful that Vietnam would lead to World War III, and yet we did manage to recover our international standing somewhat, though forever tainted. Disturbing too were the war crimes then that echo those now in the world. The racism that fuels it, the all out destruciton of villages, rapes, torture, massacres, children and women ground into tank treads, because you know its the same shit then as now in Iraq, as Afghanistan, Tibet, and now Lebanon and wherever else there is war and invasion. In the end, I think I found it more upsetting that either Tuol Sleng prison or the Killing Fields in Cambodia...

At least dinner was good- in fact, the best since arriving in Vietnam. Roll your own rice papers with grilled beef and a heaping basket of fresh herbs (basil, mint and others) to stuff into the rolls and likely the best meal of the trip. Much better than the other night's soursop soup, which literally tasted like fruit punch with fish floating in it. Verdict- I do not like the taste of soursop. The thing about VN food is the freshness and the herbs- just absolutely verdant piles of greens and herbs used as garnish in the soups, rolls, salads, and everything...

Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Charlie Don't Surf

Spent the morning wandering the market in search of our now-favorite iced coffee, served best "to go" in a double set of plastic bags and straw the better for wandering with. The town is small enough and distant enough that we are really oddities to be wandering around as white people. We walked through some back alleys, and watched children excitedly run inside to call their parents and siblings out to look at us. Its almost like being a celebrity, with everyone pointing and saying hello and waving, amazed that we have chosen to eat at their humble market stall. The tourists that do come this far south seem to only be on package tours, and even then its rare.

Vietnam generally feels a bit more overwhelming than Cambodia, but maybe because our pace of travel has sped up to one night in each location for the next few days. People are a bit less friendly, and there is almost no english spoken. At one restaurant today we even had the owner bring out their kid to speak english, which is typical, but today they trotted out their six-year-old to translate the menu. (we passed on the chopped serpent salad, though did go for the eel in tamarind sauce which was a bit of a disappointment.) At least things are cheaper here than vietnam, our hotel last night was six dollars after we complained of a broken air conditioner, and meals have averaged about three dollars..>..> combined! A much better bargain that the outrageously overpriced 2-3$ entrees in Phnom Penh.

After much confusion, we found ourselves on a bus to Cantho, where we are now. The midday bus seemed to be the cigarette smuggling bus- apparently most black market goods (remember, Vietnam is still semi-communist) come by water from thailand via cambodia, essentially followingt he same route that we did. As we got on the bus, the woman next to us open up the three trash bags full of rubber banded cigarette packs and began strapping them to herself- arms, torso, legs, and then layering clothing over strings of packs until she looked obese and was "dressed" head-to-toe in cigarette packs four deep under her clothing. It was completely insane, and I'm glad I took pictures as its impossible to do justice to in words. Imagine a cartoon suicide bomber with dynamite strapped to him, but all packs of thai cigarettes, and you may start to get the idea. The bus was also tiny, think of a minivan stuffed with sixteen vietnamese people plus olivia and myself. This vehicle also honked the entire trip, though seemed to have a clown horn, making the whole thing just that much more absurd. It seems we're finally settled here in Cantho, where my uncle was once stationed thirty six years ago, and ready to explore the floating markets tomorrow. A good french dinner (steak frites!) and we headed to bed.

In the morning to get onto the river we were forced into joining up with a day tour, because the communist regulations fine anyone taking a foreigner out on their boat for any other reason. This makes for a completely ridiculous tour experience, and has the added annoyance of sharing a boat with a bunch of aussies and french folk and feeling like a tourist. Normally when travelling in Central America or something, I'd try to wrangle a local fisherman to take me out, but it was a definite no go in the People's Republic. All the same, the tour was cool if a bit ridiculous in its communist efficiency.

The floating markets were a real sight to behold, although we only got to see one. Because people live their lives on boats- are born, grow up, marry, have children and die on their family sampan, they also have to access and trade goods by their boat as well. So the floating market is a giant flotilla of little sampans and larger boats selling everything from cups of coffee and baguette to plates of noodles to sacks of rice, and even coffins as the river people trade their wares and do their shopping. They hang a sample froma bamboo pole so that you can see froma distance what each boat is selling and head for it. Its really incredible and beautiful sight, though the pictures don't capture the noxious smell of diesel that is omnipresent anytime hundreds of boats congregate in one spot...>..>
From there we saw some other little sights, a rice factory, a noodle factory, and then had a communist style "vote" for whether we would see another floating market or go to the country side. It went like this:
"Okay, I think we can go to another market exactly the same as the one we saw, or go to the countryside which is much nicer. I think 99f people want ot go to countryside, and see monkey bridge, but first we must vote. Anyone who wants to go to countryside, raise your hand!"
A few people raise their hands, many people grumble.
"Okay, we have vote, now we go to the countryside!"
Yes, the opposition never got a chance to vote anything but the party ticket!
But the countryside was beautiful, and we somehow found our hotel in Mytho, another delta town though less charming than the previous two. There were also blasting Ho Chi Minh speeches out of loudspeakers, alternating with very dramtic music. Following a mediocre we walked home, this time the speakers blaring jingle bells for some inexplicable reason. Speaking of Christmas carols- I am not making this up but when the busses back up, they play "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" instead of that beeep-beeep-beeep sound that they do in America.

Tuesday Company

Another lazy day on the delta, some boat rides through small backwater canals and islands north of mytho, and another tour with french and europeans smoking cigarettes and complaining that no one speaks the language of the original colonists. We saw a few more factories (coconut candy, herbal wine), listened to some local music, and some very pleasant canoe rides through some natural canals. An absolutely ridicuosly disorganized guide was quite amusing, and we did get to experience some Vietnamese ferries, which make the Martha's Vineyard Governor look like the state room in the QE2. They do run with ruthless efficiency, with people literally jumping on and off as the boat is still moving. Shoving our way onto the boat was an adventure in itself. The people have a very different cultural understanding of the "line" than we have here in the west. Its a bit more of a "v" shape than a line shape, with everyone shoving through and a concept much more about width than length.

Ho Chi Minh City is completely overwhelming, with an even more terrifying and huge swarm of motorbikes than I've seen anywhere in my life. Thankfully there was little street crossing to be done, and we found a decent place for cheap (Kim's "room-for-rent"), in the backpacker ghetto. Decent dinner at a place also called Kim's, with a n okay stir fried squid dish.

Saturday, July 15, 2006
Apocalypse Wow

The vietnamese unit of currency is the dong. As in, we just took one million dong out of the ATM machine. This is endlessly hilarious. As is the fact that the names of everything are "Hung Long," "Phat Dong" and "Phuoc this and phuoc that. But let me back up...

We departed Phnom Penh on a little chugging boat yesterday with about six other folks aon board, heading down a mekong tributary toward Vietnam. Yet another experience that feels like we ought to be in a movie- Apocalypse Now perhaps, as we watched junk boats lazily grind past us and the mist came in over the wooden hut villages on the shores of the Mekong Delta. I can only say it must have been terrifying to fight a war in a place like this, so eerie and so foreign, particularly as the fog came in and mixed with the smoke from burning crop fields in the distance. The border crossing here is new, and people have rarely seen white folks, so we were quite the attraction from the back of our little boat as the only white faces many of the people have seen.

The border crossing was another experience entirely- straight out of a bad third world movie. First we are boarded by a vietnamese expediter who jumps off his boat in the middle of the voyage to check all of our passports and visas. An hour later, we reach the end of Cambodia, where we "dock" on the side of a dirt cliff with steps simply scut out of the earth. Scrambling up the side of the banks with our bags, we are released from The Kingdom of Cambodia and climb back down into the boat. We are accosted by children the entire time begging and trying to sell us sodas. The boat goes another ten minutes downriver before we need to enter Vietnam. (I never understand what lies between the checkpoints, I mean, who's country is which... I guess it just absolutely doesnt matter). We hand over our passports again, then go through some checkpoint. We then have to walk over another border, at which point more screaming children try to sell us vietnamese money for our dollars and are continually running away whenever the immigration agent, who is maybe three years older than them, walks by in a bizarre cat and mouse game. We wait here for another ten minutes, then run to the boat to get our bags, run back to the boat (which has drifted down as we walked over the border) to get our bags. These we set on the x-ray machine conveyer belt (which is off) and remove immediately and are shuttled running back to the boat by our expediter, who explains that things are going more smoothly today than yesterday when he failed to give the border agents a big enough "gift." Oh well...

We pulled into Chau Doc, our destination, another hour later, just as the monsoon began. The boat had earlier turned up the mekong to ply through countless villages floating houses and stilt houses. Its amazing to see how these people live in those places or on old wooden junk boats with open fires on board, actually wearing those conical hats like it was forty years ago, like it was 200 years ago. (although now you can hear the universal sound of the nokia cell phone ring echoing across the mekong). Our boat actually pulled right up to a restaurant filled with drunken vietnamese businessmen, as we stumbled through the restaurant and into the village. Its a true backwater, not much to do, but we found our hotel and a decent dinner of fresh vietnamese spring rolls and rice noodle soup.

Currently reading :
The Sorrow of War
By Bao Ninh