It's Saturday it Must be Saigon

We just finished a whirlwind tour of Vietnam and I think we all left wanting more and wishing we had allocated more time to this beautiful country. The past few weeks was the first part of our six month journey in which we were in constant motion—changing cities every few days and covering a lot of tourist ground. We enjoyed it all—but the pace was a bit exhausting and didn’t allow much time for any real cultural exchange.

Vietnam is a remarkable country—distinct in so many ways from all of the other South East Asian countries we have visited. The image of Vietnam mired in a brutal and complicated war (the American War, as they call it) is so deeply imprinted in my psyche that I had to keep reminding myself that this vibrant and dynamic place was indeed Vietnam. Our introduction was Ho Chi Min City (formerly, and still unofficially, known as Saigon). Much to my surprise, HCMC seemed the picture of urban sophistication albeit with a strong sense of history and the perspective. Or, as one guidebook put it—and interesting combination of pagodas, shrines, miniskirts and motorbikes. Indeed, crossing the street through the sea of motorbike traffic was among our most daunting adventures. You quickly learn that there are no traffic signals (and the few that exist seem to be mere suggestions rather than commands) and there is no way 100s of motorbikes are going to stop to let a bunch of white folks cross. So you just have to confidently wade into the traffic and hope the cars and motorbikes will avoid you. Our first strategy was to find a local to follow (and hang on to our children’s hands tight enough to cut off their circulation), but we got bolder as the days went on (Adam in particular) and were soon crossing like the locals.

I did note that with all of the modern conveniences in HCMC and the rest of Vietnam, the only American chain that exists in any significant way was KFC. According to one book, this is perhaps because the Vietnamese think that Colonel Saunders looks like a Caucasian Ho Chi Minh—and when you look at it that way, he actually does.

You get the distinct impression as you walk through the various cities that unlike Cambodia, which seems to be still struggling to emerge from it’s recent and brutal past, Vietnam has moved on, and at blinding speed. Everyone seems to be in perpetual motion here. In Africa, everything was pole pole (slow)—part of its charm and appeal, but also perhaps a cause for its continuing economic struggle. No grass grows under the Vietnamese and you can see why theirs is currently the fasting growing Asian economy.

I also had the impression that Vietnam has been far more successful in moving on from the war than America has. The resentment toward Americans that I anticipated from the Vietnamese was simply non existent. This may be explained by the fact that they actually won the war—and have garnered a great deal of pride and respect from their peers by kicking our asses. It is also possible that the war, though so formative in the American social and political conscience, is simply one of many conflicts of which the Vietnamese have been part for the past 1000 years—with China, Cambodia and France. I found it interesting that the first question they ask when they hear you are American is “what do you think of Vietnam?” It always seems infused with a solid sense of pride and satisfaction with how they have not merely survived, but succeeded. I always chuckled when this is inevitably followed by them excitedly telling you of their uncle in Santa Ana or cousin in San Francisco.

While in HCMC (the name one must use for government with government officials—but not widely used by locals), we did the typical tourist thing—a trip to the Mekong Delta with the requisite stop at the coconut candy making factory, a photo op with the resident cobra and some music and dance from the locals. Nothing terribly scintillating but a pleasant enough day.

We also visited the Cu Chi tunnels—also extremely touristy, though a bit more complicated. The propaganda film they show is actually disappointing as the quality is horrendous. It seems like a real missed opportunity that they could not scare up a quality film maker to make a decent film about this subject. I don’t think I ever enjoy seeing the instrumentality of war (war movies etc…) or the gleeful descriptions of creative ways enemy soldiers were killed, but it is particularly unnerving when the objects of these creative killing mechanisms were my fellow citizens—albeit in a war that I firmly believe we had no business fighting. I did find myself quite annoyed when I overheard an Australian woman tell her Vietnamese guide that while many Australians and Americans were protesting the war, most of the protest came from Australia She clearly missed the part about the Vietnamese War tearing the fabric of America apart—but we all come at it from our own perspective. Again, I am glad we went and the visit sparked some very interesting conversations with our kids about the Vietnam War and, among other things, the parallels with the current mess in which our country is mired in Iraq.

We switched gears and our next stop was a charming little fishing village called Hoi An. It was nice to have a few days to relax by the pool, go running on the beach (the first time in a few weeks!), and stroll through town. Hoi An is known for clothes making, so Maya, Emma and I did as the locals do and had dresses made. The other shopping was actually tempting here, but I am still reluctant to add any more to our already heavy load, so we wandered, window shopped and ate. The food in Hoi An was fabulous. We had dinner in a tiny little restaurant along the river and for less than $15 (for the 4 of us) we had our best Vietnamese meal.

From Hoi An, we took at bus to the ancient capitol of Hue (pronounced Huway), known as the intellectual heart of Vietnam. The bus ride was very pleasant, much more so than our Siem Reap-Phnom Penh experience. We met some interesting Brits and enjoyed seeing the beautiful countryside roll by. Planes are quick and efficient, but you really do miss a lot.

In Hue, we signed up for a excursion on a large dragon boat down the Perfume River and noted that while the river did not smell like perfume, at least it didn’t stink like many of the other rivers on which we have traveled. As we slowly floated down the river, we stopped to see some wonderful temples and shrines and learned about the history of this fascinating city. Along the way, we met a very interesting young German traveler with whom we discussed politics of all sorts. He was hesitant at first to discuss American politics as a previous discussion with some red neck American landed him in a fist fight, but once we assured him of our solid anti Bush bone fides, he willingly discussed the fact that Germany was “thunderstruck” that George Bush had been reelected and we had a very interesting discussion. We were all still so consumed by what we had learned about the Cambodian genocide that Maya asked him what Germans thought of Hitler. He gave the right response (“we learned the history honestly and are horrified that something like this could have come from Germany”), but I was pleased to see the kids starting to make these important connections.

Throughout our trip in Vietnam, I was struck by what appears to be an exceedingly strong sense of family among the Vietnamese people. All businesses seem to be family run. While on the dragon boat down the Perfume River I noticed that it was really the family houseboat. So, as the captain steered us down the river, his wife was nursing the baby or rocking him to sleep in his make-shift cradle (a basket hanging from the ceiling by ropes), while the toddler sat in her father’s lap proudly helping him steer the boat. The rest of the crew seemed to be made of up siblings and cousins—from the food preparers to the souvenir hawkers—just all a family affair.

While in Hue, we also visited the Citadel—the old walled city. In addition to being beautiful, I was immediately struck by how peaceful it felt to be inside (even if it was 100 degrees and intensely humid). Interesting since Hue, being just a few kilometers from the DMZ, was the target of intense violence during not just the American war, but most of the international altercations in which Vietnam has been involved over the past 1000 years.

As we did in HCMC, we found a nice little middle of the road hotel in Hue. However, they were oversold for our second night and rather than waste time searching for something similar, we got lazy and extravagant and checked into the local 5 star hotel. At $150/night (with the 4 of us in one room), we all enjoyed a little luxury break--money well spent for fluffy towels, sparkling clean sheets, comfortable beds and a great pool.

We planned to take the train from Hue to Hanoi, but when we discovered that it was 14 hours long and arrived at 4 AM, we chickened out and decided to fly (oddly—the price was practically the same). After a rather unpleasant first night in a filthy, cockroach-invested hotel in Hanoi (in particularly harsh contrast to our previous night), we all fell in love with Hanoi—a city of wide tree-lined boulevards, lakes, parks and freshly baked baquettes on every corner—an enchanting combination of French and Asian style. We did some of the tourist things here—Ho Chi Min’s body under glass being the most bizarre--but mostly enjoyed wandering through the city and soaking up the energy and culture (see Adam’s next blog for more info). As we chilled out in a beautiful park by one of the lakes and observed the throngs of contented locals running, playing badminton, and engaging in the variety of carefree leisure pursuits, there was no sense at all that these relaxed, content people were suffering under the yolk on any kind of repressive communist regime. The only inkling you get that you are indeed in a communist country is the ominous looking military folks posted in various places, applying what seem to be relatively arbitrary and nonsensical rules about where you can walk and what you can photograph. The government officials seem to be an odd combination of extremely serious and completely ineffectual. However, this is truly the only hint you have that you are in a communist country.

We were sorry to leave Vietnam—but there is no doubt we will be back. Besides, we were all looking forward to some time to chill out in Bali and to see my mom who was on her way.