Good morning, Vietnam!

<



I have found my entry for Vietnam to be the hardest to write because of my utter inadequacy in describing this beautiful country and its people. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Vietnam. From the moment the ship began its journey down the river to our port the experience was a sensory overload—the smells of food from everywhere when we walked down the streets and traveled to the Binh Thanh markets, the beautiful colors on everything imaginable that was sold there (prepared lunches and raw produce, Polo T-shirts, North Face bookbags, lacquer work, embroidery, delicate fabrics, tablecloths, books, Buddhas, shoes, hair clips, jewelry), the diversity and beauty of the land. Cars were scarce; motorbikes were everywhere. In processing my experience (which is the one downfall of being a world jet setter—there is not enough time between ports to truly reflect on everything we’ve experienced) I realized my own assumptions about who and what I would find when I went to Vietnam. I imagined oppressive heat; and cold people, suspicious of Americans. Instead, I was greeted with some of the most loving and honest people I have ever met. People spoke very openly about their country—its poverty, its government—but also conveyed a pride comparable to that held by some of America’s most patriotic citizens. What differed from the pride held by the Vietnamese and the pride frequently held us the type of American pride worth emulating—was not a pride that ignored shortfalls or inadequacies, but a pride that made room for acknowledging what many would assume are its obvious shortcomings (its poverty; its decentralized, disorganized government; it’s weak infrastructure) AND also acknowledged Vietnam’s tremendous growth, it’s sense of community, respect for traditions, and love of family and country.

The heat in Vietnam was no greater than the heat we’ve endured in Charlottesville or Dover. For most of our stay in Vietnam there was a lot of rain, because it’s still technically the rainy season there. One really appealing part of our time in Vietnam was the fact that we had five days there—five days to truly experience and get to know the city. We learned to barter in the markets (you should typically always pay half of the price the merchant first offers) and to eat pho, a traditional Vietnamese noodle dish that is so tasty. We also ate some excellent shrimp that were wrapped around sugar cane and grilled. DEEEEEEELICIOUS. We sampled darien fruit, which are fruits the size of cantaloupes, but are covered in spikes. They smell like something rotting, but they are loved in Asia. We held our noses and tasted. They tasted liked onions to me, so I passed on picking up a huge bag of them, but others in our group really liked them. One of the things I also did while I was there was have two dresses made. I went online and picked two patterns that I liked and took them to a tailor. Each dress was $35 a piece and it was custom-made for me in only two days. It was my first real indulgence of the trip and I was in heaven when I put them on. Something else I didn’t expect was the fact that the American dollar was accepted in every market, restaurant, and store we went to when we were traveling. Everything was so cheap—so plenty of you will receive Vietnamese goodies from me upon my return to the U.S. One day we went to the spa at the Rex Hotel, whose bar the American generals used to go to during the war. I got a manicure, pedicure, and 60 minute massage for $23 (this was my second big indulgence of the trip).

One of the most touristy things we did in Saigon was to visit the War Remnants Museum. First known as the House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government (of South Vietnam) when it was opened in 1975, the museum was later known as the Museum of American War Crimes. Its most recent name is a reflection of the normalization of relations between Vietnam and the U.S., but the museum does not make an attempt to be politically balanced. What I most appreciated about the museum was the collection of photos taken by 134 war reporters (from 11 different countries) all of whom were killed during the Vietnam War. There were so many powerful photographs, many which were later prize-winning. As you might expect, many of the photos did not paint Americans in a favorable light. Some of the pictures showed American soldiers pointing weapons at villagers. There were also graphic photos of bodies being dragged behind US tanks and pictures of GIs carrying corpses and partial corpses. I know there are similar photos with American GIs as victims that were not on display. Numerous photos in the museum were dedicated to the victims of Agent Orange (over 72 million liters of this chemical was sprayed during the war in Vietnam) and even more photos just showed the dead, from both sides, as they fell. There was also a section of the museum dedicated to showing the physical and mental torture methods used during the war, which I opted not to tour. I viewed instead the Vietnamese children’s painting exhibition and left the museum soon after that. The two others I was traveling with didn’t say much either—overwhelmed by what war can ask one man to do his fellow man. During our travels back to the ship, we stopped at the Reunification Palace, preserved in much of 70s décor, which was the sight of the transfer of power from the South Vietnamese to the North in 1975.

One of the numerous highlights for me in Vietnam was when I led a Semester at Sea trip to the Da Thien School for Handicapped Children. Our group of 12 students got to meet the school’s pupils and school administrators. We blew bubbles, colored, and played ball with the students who ranged in age from 2 to 24. The school was a private day school, supported by villagers in the area and wealthy Vietnamese living in America. I was so touched by how our language barriers didn’t prevent communication between our group. The students especially enjoyed the immediate gratification of our digital cameras and were insistent on posing for numerous photos. They loved our stickers and many, while initially shy, soon were inspired by the activity.





The last day we spent in Vietnam was truly magical. A group of eight of us traveled to the Mekong Delta and the Cu Chi tunnels with a private guide. Until the 16th century, the Mekong Delta was an area of marshlands and forest. Today inhabitants of the Delta cultivate rice, fish, soybeans, corn, tobacco, peanuts, and melons. The Cai Be area is famous for its coconut palms and fruit orchards.

By far, the best part of the trip is a boat ride on the Mekong River to observe the river life. This river is the longest one in Asia and stretches between five countries: Laos, Cambodia, China, Burma, and Vietnam. On our way to the delta we observed people working in the rice fields. Once there, we boarded a boat and traveled down the river. We stopped in a village to sample exotic tropical fruits like lychees, darien, pineapples, and coconuts, while the villagers played their traditional music.

Next up was a boat ride to a coconut candy making village and then a three-person ride on a large rickshaw of sorts to the next village. There we met Tommy, the resident python snake who claims to be friendly, and got to sample the local honey the area is famous for. (We passed on purchasing bottles of alcohol with small pythons inside.)

Next, we climbed into a small wooden boats that were propelled down the river by two villagers—one standing at the front of the boat and one at the back. The one at the front of my boat allowed me to take this photo of him.

It was incredible feeling to be floating down the Mekong River—truly a spiritual experience. Once back on our big river boat, our guide gave us coconut milk to drink (straight from the coconut) and we headed to the dock before making the 2 ½ trip to the Cu Chi tunnels.

Located approximately two hours from Ho Chi Minh City, Cu Chi is famous for its 200 km network of underground tunnels. These tunnels were created by the Viet Cong forces during wars with both the French and Americans. From the mid-1940s onward, the tunnels were used as a base from which the Viet Cong could launch strategic attacks and then disappear into thin air. The tunnels have well-hidden entrances and thick roofs which were able to withstand the weight of tanks and the impact of bombs. Unknowingly, the Americans even built a base camp on top of an existing tunnel network and suffered severe casualties before they realized their error. Our guide explained, with the aid of replicas, how the Viet Cong created smokeless stoves and inconspicuous ventilation holes to escape detection from the American forces. There were three different levels of tunnels at Cu Chi. After restoration for tourists, most of the tunnels are still only two feet wide and five feet height. During the war, the first level was for fighting, the second, deeper level was for living, and the third, deepest level was for fleeing.



Given that it was the rainy season, we only had the option to go 100 meters at the first and second levels. Despite the fact that the tunnels were lit up with electric lights, they were extremely cramped. Many of the pictures we have from the tunnels are of each other’s butts, because we had to walk and crawl through the tunnels while completely hunched over. These were not for the claustrophobic. I was nervous about going through them, but I wanted a small sense of what it felt like to live and fight from those tunnels. It is unimaginable to me. There was also a chance to shoot some of the weapons used during the Vietnam War—M-16s, etc. I had absolutely no interest in this, but I am afraid that many of our students who visited Cu Chi came away with thinking that they crawled through some cool tunnels and got to shoot an M-16. For so many of our students the war seemed to have no presence in their consciousness at all. I am grateful to my high school teacher, Mr. Maroon, who taught a semester course on the subject and to Pete, a Vietnam War veteran and my sister’s godfather, who once allowed me to interview him about the war for the same high school class. I have not forgotten.
Back at the ship, we thanked our guide, Mr. Phuong, and rushed to make it for "on ship time" (two hours before the ship is supposed to depart from the port).