Final Days in Vietnam

I should have known that going to a complete party city on my own for New Years would be a terrible idea. Granted, at the time, I didn't know how much of a party city Saigon was. But it's not in my DNA to party until dawn with perfect strangers. My ideal NYE party has me and my buds enjoying the night in and watching to ball drop on television, to be honest. Too many weirdos, too many people in general, crawl out of whatever rocks they've been hiding under for however long to roam the streets on New Years. That's not just Saigon - that's everywhere. It's like all of humanity's test-subjects only come out just a few nights a year.

Saigon was no exception to my "rule." And not only were utter weirdos on the prowl, but the streets were jam-packed with people and motorists. I don't even want to know how many people got run over last night. Crossing the street here already requires some finesse, but last night was pure insanity. I was getting claustrophobic. I was getting a non-stop volley of offers. And all I wanted was some relative silence. So I went home. That's right people. I rang in the new year all by my lonesome. I don't know what that's supposed to forecast for my year - perhaps a year of being true to myself. Lets hope. Last year I got tossed around by the whims of others, something I must take full responsibility for, and this year I just want to do that thing I do. No more bull. Hooray for potentially disappointing people

So how did I spend the first day of my New Year? Spectacularly! I started off early and got myself a real American-style breakfast at the Texas BBQ joint where all the racist old men hang out. Then I returned home, packed up my things and checked out of my hotel, leaving my luggage with them for the day. Then it was off to one of the swankiest hotels in the city for a little R&R by the pool for the cool price of $3 for the day (after about an hour wandering into some of the most elite hotels in Saigon and being told absurdly high prices). Just lounging and sipping on a variety of juices and eating by the pool - such is the life! The hustle and bustle of Saigon was no where to be found, thankfully; this city exhausts me.

I had a lovely - and filling - dinner of sushi (yum) quite early, so I had time to kill. i walked around the mall, which is really strange because it's scattered across several different building and blocks and has all sorts of upscale stores. I think te store employees all thought I was going to steal something because they followed me everywhere and occasionally I would see them watching me, crouched behind the bookshelves. It was really strange.

After the mall, I went to check out the night market to spend my last couple 100,000 dong, but it still wasn't open. Luckily, across the street was a makeshift performance hall set up for the New Years celebrations. At the time I encountered it, it was a dancing and singing performance done by children. Although I don't speak Vietnamese, I caught the gist - something about how flowers grow, complete with a bee "pollinating" the flower dancers with glitter and a "Singing in the Rain" type number. I stuck around for the hula goop performer, a real hit with the crowd. The children got a couple claps; this last had everyone "ooh"ing and "aah"ing and shouting for her.

Frankly, I was bored of watching the old woman perform tricks I learned in 4th grade P.E., so that's why when I was approached by a group of three people asking if they could practice their English, I acquiesced with only a little hesitance. Before I knew it, I was chatting with a crowd of about ten Vietnamese people, both of us learning about each other. They were mainly interested in slang words, so I taught them a few that occurred to me: hit on, chase (a girl) and to chase her off, yolo, and then cholo (pronunciation mistakes make for interesting turns in conversation), awesome, cool, wicked, and a few others I've already forgotten. It was a good time and I ended up chatting for over an hour with them! I love the chance encounters that travel makes possible!

Finally, I got in some last-minute shopping to round out my last day in Saigon. of course, I wouldn't be me if I hadn't left some of my belongings scattered across the city, like my PASSPORT (left at my hotel, where it was probably safer anyway) and my sunglasses. Then it was off to the airport, to return back to Korea. So if you're reading this (that means you mom) then I am safe and sound, ready to board my plane.

It is strange to not be going back to the U.S. after a vacation. But to be perfectly honest, I miss Korea. I miss the relative safety, even if I never feel like part of the crowd. I miss being left alone on my walks places, not constantly being hounded by people trying to sell me something I don't want. I miss the fresh air and open spaces (did I seriously say that about Korea just now?). Believe it or not, I miss my hard, old bed and am looking forward to going home to my probably stinky apartment. It's been an amazing trip and I'll do a recap with all the things that didn't fit into the day-to-day goings-on updates I've been doing.

Love love love, from your (stinky) traveler.

Children in Vietnam

I'll admit, I've been incredibly lazy today. So there's not too much to update you on other than one terrible burrito. Today is my day to let my body recover from the miles and miles of walking I've been doing and hopefully heal my aching feet.

But I feel like I have to address some of the things I've seen thus far in Vietnam that are truly saddening and that is the exploitation of children here. As in every impoverished country I've ever been, children here are used for money-making purposes. It's a very effective tool, I understand that. Who can resist the world's cutest 2-3 year old, with such tiny, tiny hands, trying to sell you gum?

But these children... 6-10 year old kids stay up ALL night long, with little to no supervision, trying to sell junk to drunk tourists. They hang out by the clubs, singing and dancing to Jay-Z, Rihanna, Usher, Nicki Minaj, imitating dance moves they've probably seen in these clubs or on music videos. Some of the girls are dressed up in school uniforms, but closer inspection reveals they are fakes.

While eating dinner with a nice couple I met yesterday, a young boy comes up trying to sell roses. The man I'm with says he doesn't want any roses. The kids strikes up a deal with him - they play thumb war and if the man wins, then no rose, but if the kid wins, the man will have to buy a rose. So they play. And then the man pins the boy's thumb and blood squirts all over his hand. And then the man takes a closer look - burns cover the boy's hands and feet, and most of his nails are falling off. When he related this story to our server, he reluctantly told us that if the boy doesn't sell enough roses, that's his punishment, cigarette burns.

Overall, there seems to be a general lack of concern for these children. I watched as a child tripped and fell and nearly got run over by a motorbike, and even after the incident, his mother didn't notice or care to supervise him closer. I see how their shoes are too small. A toddler, coming to stare at me, slipped down the slick stairs and muddied his shins. You could see there was some pain there, but he was brave enough not to cry and tried brushing himself off. And then his mother saw how he had dirtied himself and beat him all the way to the bathroom, all because he came around to stare at ME.

These "anecdote" weren't just stories I heard, these are things I've actually seen with my own eyes in the very short amount of time I've been here. This can't possibly be the full extent, and I'm terrified to discover any more.

Such disturbing normalcy wrenches at my soul. How can this problem be solved? Who can deliver these children from such an unfair life? When they are older, they will perpetuate these same unfairnesses to their own children. This cycle has to put to an end, but how? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it.

Day 4 - Return to Civilization

My day began bright and early attempting to charter a boat down the Mekong River to see the floating markets of Cai Rang. After my midnight voyage to my hotel yesterday, I'm harboring blood blisters on the bottoms of my feet, so my patience to seek out the right boat is wearing thin. It's also especially difficult as a solo traveler, but I manage, even though its a more expensive option.

So I'm on my boat, all alone, with my boat driver who is chain-smoking cigarettes and throwing the refuse in the river. I see people living, sleeping on tiny skiffs that are being tossed about by the waves, barge dogs yawning as their owners ise heavy machinery to unload several tons-worth of dirt from their ships, locals readying for their own trip down river, balancing on the ridges of their boats on their tiptoes, veritable shanty towns lining the river, made of particle board and tin siding, with these eventually giving way to full-on tent cities growing up out of the dirt.

The actual market is fascinating, in its own right. The boats range in size from tiny skiffs operated by a glorified weed whacker to full-on house boats, with children and puppies weaving amongst the produce to be sold or traded. There are two types of sellers - those geared toward the tourists and those geared toward the locals. The tourist boats hawk drinks, some food. I saw one boat's operator cooking chicken satay over an open flame. The local boats have all kinds of produce, meant to be sold or traded in bulk. Pineapples, durian, onions, watermelon, and many whose shapes and sizes I've never seen before.

Unfortunately, I did not get any pictures, but while I was floating through this place, I got to thinking and watching all those tourists with their giant telescopic lenses, and only hoping that the money I "overspent" will get returned to the local economy here so that these people might not be exploited as curios from "The Orient."

I was somewhat in a rush to get back to Ho Chi Minh City. Can Tho, while beautiful and exotic, was like Thebes, as portrayed in my favorite Disney movie of all time, Hercules - before Herc shows up and goes all "Who Put the Glad in Gladiator" on everybody and their mythic monsters. So I bought my ticket dirt cheap through Can Tho Tourist, which happened to be right next to my budget hotel (read: dirt cheap) and they provided transport to the bus station.

Even though I've found such matters to always be chaotic, I was much more at ease this time around because I knew what to expect. I must've shown it, too, because a woman nearby was asking if anyone spoke English. I told her I did, even though my knowledge of Vietnamese matters is woeful.

"Where are you headed?"
"Saigon," I say.
"What's going on, is this where we wait for the bus?" She asked me.
"Oh, yeah, the bus will pull up right here, it'll be orange and it'll say 'Can Tho to Saigon' on the side. You won't be able to miss it."
(It was just lucky that I turned out to be right, considering this was neither the same bus station I got dropped off nor the same organization I bought my ticket through, but see, what's important here is I was right.)

So the bus shows up, as predicted. Everyone gets on, all the foreigners, too, but not me because my agency booked me the bus fifteen minutes later. The woman's husband, who seems to be putting off boarding until the last possible moment, sidles up to me and asks where I'm from.
"Arizona," I tell him. "But I'm living in Korea right now."
"You really seem to know your way around Asia," he says in what is the biggest compliment ever considering I know, like, nothing. He hopped on his bus, I hopped on mine and got to enjoy four hours of sitar-playing, Vietpop and the ever-present honking of my bus' horn.

Once we arrived in Saigon, predictably all the moto and taxi drivers started shouting at me, trying to get a fare. I approach one guy, who quotes me five times the regular price. I try to negotiate with his, but we're not exactly speaking the same language here. Someone comes along to help. He says "100," I say it's to expensive. So then he jumps down to twenty, which is the usual asking price, so I jump on it.

Before getting on the bike, he insists on carrying my shoulder back with him. It makes me uneasy that he's just going to drive off with it, and although there's no money in the bag, it has my winter coat. And like, I am REALLy going to be needing that winter coat once I get to Korea. So I'm uneasy this whole time. And once it's time to get dropped off, I figure out why. He says I owe him 80. Instead of arguing the point, I let it go. It's four bucks and I'm not exactly starving here.

Then it's time to find my hotel! Oh, the Ly. I walked in and I was happiness! Cheap, small but cool and QUIET rooms. You have no idea what a relief it was to find this place. After that, I zonked, waking up in time do some serious shopping damage at the night market.

Day 3 - We're not in Ho Chi Minh City anymore, Toto

A couple days back, I bought my ticket to Can Tho, the bustling metropolis in the Mekong River Delta and today was the day I would finally get my $9 bus ride worth. Of course, I found out only later that I was meant to haggle with the travel agent and was grossly overcharged. But whatever.

I began my morning leisurely, enjoying having my own space free from the attacks of an invading ant army. Once I set out, settled up at the hotel with all of my luggage (really, REALLY regretting having to lug that winter coat around everywhere), I headed straight for the Mexican food place I saw last night. I ordered up some chimichangas and savored the salsa and and guacamole. What a treasure! So strange how Vietnam has so much more variety!

After my own private family reunion, I headed toward the War Remnants Museum, which supposedly has a bunch of Vietnam War-era relics and a truly disturbing display on Agent Orange. I wouldn't know, however, because the stupid thing was closed! I arrived just after noon, it's closing time (for the staff to nap, I suppose), and not meant to open again until 2:00, the time I needed to head back to catch my bus.

Not wanting the walk to be a total waste, I went to a promising-looking Japanese restaurant. This really turned out to be an utter fail. Note to yourself: if you're ever in Vietnam, don't go to the Angel Garden restaurant... They were out of the ramen, something I'm about six seconds from murdering someone to get AND they were out if tuna. How is it possible to run out of tuna at a Japanese restaurant?? Ok, maybe I'm being too harsh. Especially when the next experience doesn't even rival it.

THE TRIP TO CAN THO

I arrived at the agency I used to book the trip well in advance, and was immediately whisked away via the most terrifying moto ride of my life, this far (but then again, I've only been in Vietnam for two real days, so there's plenty of time to out-do that).

I got dropped off at a nondescript-looking storefront, crowded with people, with little idea what to do next and no English-speaking people in sight. Luckily, my cluelessness lasted only twenty minutes when I was waved at (Korean style! Gangnam style?) by the for-hire guard and was "ushered" onto a bus with a bunch of other people. The girl siting next to me struck up a conversation, wanting to meet up later in HCMC, but with her limited English and my pure inability to even begin understanding Vietnamese, it took the better part of the trip to figure this out.

Oh, but it isn't so simple. Twenty minutes later, I get dropped off at a giant bus depot, literally the only foreign person in the vicinity. It's quite a sight to behold, I suppose. The Vietnamese have a bit more class when it comes to dealing with the unknown than the Koreans I've encountered thus far - no mass head turns. But so much whispering behind their hands, as though I would be able to read their lips anyways. I got the most action from the baby in front of me, who desperately wanted to read my book.

Of course, being at this giant bus depot was quite the nerve-grating experience. It was hot and muggy inside, women were hawking iced drinks with some yellow liquid (that I later saw these same women picking out of the trash to sell again), it was loud and the only announcements for buses were in Vietnamese. I asked a couple of the on-duty guards, but I might as well have been a mosquito to them.

So I'm on my own, in a Vietnamese bus station, with little idea of how to get anywhere else. Luckily, the buses have their final location written on the side as the drive up into the station, but there are literally hundreds of buses coming through. I see one marked Can Tho, my destination, and attempt to board. I'm turned away. I see another, same thing. This happens four times and without rhyme or reason, the fifth bus is the key, and I'm allowed to board. I'm still at a loss for how or why.

Some observations from the road:

All of the roadside cafes have rows upon rows of plastic chairs and tables, each with a hammock set up next to them, for sacking out pre or post-meal.

There was that lovely moment when the bus came screeching to a halt, granting two lucky moto riders the opportunity to drive insanely for another day. And the several times I witnessed men unabashedly peeing near the main road. Or the persistent honking by my bus driver, as of driving the largest vehicle on the road weren't announcement enough.

These areas along the route are predictably dirty, with garbage making up more of a riverbank than dirt. But then, on the horizon, a Vegas-esque glitterati appears. I have arrived in Can Tho.

I won't go into the ridiculous details of finding a hotel, arguing with a moto driver, or wandering the streets for several miles an hours after dark.

Day 2 - Do That Thing You Do

For comfort's sake, I decided early this morning that I would be staying in a hostel. A shower of my own, my own(ish) bed - sounded like just what the doctor ordered.

So I set out on my own to explore the city, keeping my eyes peeled for good eats and the Reunification Palace, another colonial French-era building appropriated, rebuilt, and currently a symbol of the unification of North and South Vietnam.

First things first, I hit up a Japanese restaurant. I wanted ramen and I wanted it then! Of course the first place I checked out was really a Korean restaurant in Japanese clothing. They were selling bibimbap and had a couple pages of their menu dedicated to samgyeopsal. So I went next door. No ramen, but the lunch specials were well-priced and they had udon, which will only suffice when you have the thirst for ramen and you're in a ramen desert. I got a crab roll and udon and this weird mushroom custard. All delicious, of course, textures and surprises included.

After, I set out looking for the Reunification Palace only to realize my map had me going in precisely the wrong direction. No big, since I ended up at the Saigon River. Man, that thing is dirty. Floating cesspool aside, it was definitely on the list of places to see.

Finally, having seen the river, I was appropriately oriented to find the palace, so I headed off in the right direction after some truly terrifying experiences crossing the street, but more on that in another post.

So, here's the thing about this adventure. When I set off, I conveniently left my highly informative book about Vietnam at home. All I had was a photo of my google maps walking map and the name "Reunification Palace." So I didn't know what I was really looking for.

So I get on my way and the map is taking me past some very familiar sights from my explorations yesterday. And I get to thinking - maybe I already saw this palace and just didn't KNOW it was the palace. But I keep plugging anyway. Finally, I see an orange colonial French-era building, with a couple gettingarried on one of the balconies. Could this be it? I went through all of this and the Vietnamese symbol for freedom from oppression is closed for a wedding???

I decide it is high time for more food. I plunk myself down in some wood-slatted chairs down from a rowdy group of men enjoying a mid-afternoon beer (a change of pace from the mid-afternoon nap that appears to be the country's pastimes if its parks full of dozers are any indication). I get mixed rice and a coffee, perhaps the best coffee I've ever had in my life. I linger. I enjoy the shade.

An hour later, I'm ready to check out more sights, so I head in what feels like a good direction. That Vietnam book would have come in handy to be sure. But I walk, dodging the large groups of people congregated on the sidewalks selling or enjoying food. And what do I happen to see? The REAL Reunification Palace. For $1.50, you can enter, and for another 50 cents, you get a brochure. That's my kind of deal!

The palace was amazing. It definitely touted itself as a fully-functioning government building while also being steeped in Vietnamese history. I learned a lot, through the slightly slanted (anti-American) accounts of the "American War" and the events that occurred. Its difficult for me to truly know what happened in this war, to believe everything from one side or the other, because I have yet to hear, read or see something that doesn't exploit the events and propagandize for one country or the other. However, with that being said, it is certainly nice to hear what the other side has to say. I saw how the building really is a symbol of the long-sought and hard-won freedom of the Vietnamese.

Afterward, I made my way to the cathedral, which was worth taking a few photos, especially of the Virgin Mary, whom locals say they have seen shed tears, even though she is made of stone. Afterward, I wandered back to home base and packed my things to go to the backpackers area.

After another mile-long jaunt and several stops at some overpriced hotels, I found a room, with air-conditioning (woot) and then promptly realized I left my coat and my charger at my former location. It's not that I couldn't have easily gotten there an back via moto, but the real problem is I know the names of literally nothing and to correctly pronounce the names, you need approximately three tongues (at least that's how it sounds). So I did all this on my poor feet.

Needless to say, once I finally returned back to my hotel, I crashed haaaaaard.

I'm alive in Vietnam

Although I've been here less than a day, I'm already missing some of the "familiar" sights of Korea, believe it or not.

My experience here began with getting off the plane. my senses were assaulted by a variety of smells, ever-shifting, ever-changing and always interesting.

After that bit of not-so-shocking sensory overload, i headed over to the visa office. I chose to get my visa "on arrival," meaning a company organized the approval and all I had to do was show up, have a couple passport photos in hand and pay $25 and I would be golden to enter the country. Except I forgot the passport photos and legitimately had zero American dollars on my person.

So first thing, waiting in line for the appropriate paperwork to fill out, the government official is winking at me like those 18-year-olds that hang out at Ranch Market. I just smile my freshest smile and inform him that I don't have my passport photos. He gives me the paperwork without a word.

Twenty minutes and 65,000 won later and I was on my way to immigration...finally. I had to spend a little extra to get the visa because I had no actual US dollars on me - a bribe, if you will.

So I'm at immigration and the officer starts with the questions - why are you here, who are you staying with, your boyfriend? When I tell him no, he says "so you'll call me while you're here?" I explain to him that I don't have a phone, but I think it got lost in translation. He's very persistent! Finally, I make it through immigration and am on my way, yet again.

I meet up with my couchsurfer host, Couch Surfer Dude. He whisked me away on the back of his moto and pointed out all sorts of sights along the way (although I'm sure more than a few were made up). Once we got to his place, I laid down and crashed hard.

In the morning, he was kind enough to show me the Ben Thanh market, a couple French colonial-era buildings that have been appropriated by the socialist regime and the backpackers area. I think my host must not have been used to so much activity because he needed a midday nap (or maybe he didn't sleep well the night before).

In any case, while he caught up on his beauty rest, I walked back to Ben Thanh, bought a purse, scarf, pants and a trinket or two, all the while really sharpening my haggling skills (got a 75% reduction on one of the items). The Vietnamese LOVE their bargaining and they are so GOOD at it, too. I really learned some tips and tricks from the women I dealt with.

As first impressions go, I am in love with most of Vietnam. Ho Chi Minh City is definitely one where you need to be careful and aware. I can only compare it to Mexico, in that there are some things you just need to use your common sense about and you will be safe(r).

This country is MUCH more diverse than Korea, both in regards to the Vietnamese population and to the city's population as a whole. The women all have a very unique look and sense of style, something that Korea's homogenous-leaning society tends to spurn. I've seen many, many of the women who are both much smaller and larger than the Koreans, in both size and stature. That's something I thought impossible, considering all the Korean women I've ever seen make me look like a frumpy cow.

Anyway, this is just off-the-cuff observations. I'm looking forward to trying the many varieties of food in the coming days, and maybe even get some super cheesy, fatty, delicious Mexican food! Look out world!