Farewell Saigon

Before coming to Vietnam, I had very mixed feelings about whether I would like it here or not, or how the visit might impact me. Like many of the ports we’re visiting, I never would have chosen Vietnam as one of my top spots for a relaxing or exciting vacation. Whenever I heard the word “Vietnam”, I couldn’t help but think of the war. My father served in the Vietnam war many years ago, prior to meeting my mother, settling down and having a family. Growing up we didn’t talk about the war much, although my sister was and still is an avid war-movie addict, and we saw quite a few of the films. I always thought of Vietnam as that place where this terrible war happened. I had been to a few of the memorials in the U.S. and always felt so sad when I thought of how many lives were lost senselessly in that war, and how my father himself risked his life and lost some of his friends. So, when our ship sailed slowly up through the lush green canals into the harbor, I wasn’t surprised to be struck with a heavy feeling in my heart.

The first day, I was scheduled to lead a trip to a former war photographer’s home and to the War Remnants Museum immediately following. I just felt like this was something I had to do, though I was somewhat apprehensive how the Vietnamese people might view Americans, especially given what is going on right now. But, when we met Mr. Cuong, he was such a welcoming and sweet man, who simply wants people to know about and remember the war, so that nothing of that sort should happen again. Once inside his home, we were able to view a gallery of his photos, and ask him questions about their content and meaning. Upon seeing the first photo of a US soldier, I couldn’t help it. I saw my father’s face on that young soldier (younger than most of the students who are traveling with us) and I began to cry. I saw photos of young mothers carrying their children in front of military tanks, away from wreckage, and photos of young Vietnamese boys crying beside their fathers’ graves. Looking at Mr. Cuong, you could see that even though the war ended over 31 years ago (in April of 1975, the month and year that I was born), the sentiment, the sadness and the emotion were still there. The trip to the museum also brought up many uncomfortable feelings. The photos were just too telling; they were too real. So many lives lost, families torn apart. I thought of how my grandparents must have felt when their son was sent here. I thought of the families all over the world who have been touched by war (both past and present). About half way through, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t understand why there has to be war.

In the streets of Ho Chi Minh City, the children waved to us, and smiled. Young women in traditional Vietnamese gowns held out their hands, offering brochures for spas or restaurants, with prices listed both in US dollars and Vietnamese dong. We were welcomed here. Yes, of course, they wanted us to spend money, a ship full of American university students with plenty of US dollars to spare. But they were kind to us. The young cannot recall the war because they weren’t here, or were too young to remember, but the older people, who were here, seemed just as pleased to see us here. It is not the same time. I wish it was that simple. I wish that conflicts from the past could be resolved and wars would not be sparked based on things that happened decades or even hundreds of years ago. But these thoughts are meant for another discussion.

Ho Chi Minh City is like nowhere I’ve ever been. After visiting Japan and Hong Kong, where most everything was quite familiar and rather similar to the US, I now felt that I was not only in a different country but almost in a different world. HCMC is a city of nearly 6 million people, and 4 million motorbikes! Driving in this city is like playing tackle football with no helmets, no pads, and no rules. And crossing the street as a pedestrian is practically a death wish. There are no signals, few crosswalks, and everyone seems to be traveling in opposite directions. It’s complete chaos, and yet somehow it’s efficient. Little old ladies, mothers with children, and young men with their girlfriends on the back each crowd the streets buzzing and honking on these little mopeds. And they all manage to get to and from work, school, shopping, errands, and of course, dates. On Saturday night, we even saw all the couples lined up with their bikes at the central park in the city. It was like something out of a 1950’s or 60’s movie, and surprisingly quite romantic. About the only cars you see are taxi cabs. Motorbikes are far less expensive (about $300US) and they do appear to be the fastest way to get around.

The first night we headed out on the town to a great Vietnamese dinner (lots of spring rolls, lots of shrimp and pork, and perhaps a bit too much wine). It was great. The next day was definitely the best day I had there. I led another SAS trip, which was a service visit to a Deaf School and visit to the Zoo. 23 of us got on a bus, went to this school, and instantly fell in love. These children were so amazing. I think we all wondered how were going to communicate with children who not only cannot hear or speak, but also know a different language. But the kids were really smart and well prepared, with little books containing translated words they could point to, and expressions that spoke louder than any words ever could. We were each paired up with a child, and in no time I was having an entire conversation with my little girl, about her family, her home, school, hobbies and interests (all with gestures, body language, facial expressions and pictures – the bit of American sign language I do know was useless, they speak an entirely different language!) The children danced for us (even though they couldn’t hear the music), they drew pictures, and played games with us, and I have to say that I honestly don’t know who benefited more from the visit, us or them? I know that I didn’t want my child to leave. And I wanted to stay. I’m going to miss her. By now, I was really beginning to love Vietnam.

The next couple of days were spent exploring the city, eating tons of Pho (this amazing beef and noodle soup) and shopping way too much (everything is really cheap here, if you know how to bargain – again a sport/national pastime for tourists in HCMC). We also took a day trip out of the city to the Mekong Delta, which is a major fishing and agricultural area, where much of the local food is grown. It was nice to get away from all the honking and speeding motorbikes and relax in narrow canoes floating down the peaceful river. The last day I saved for a little last minute shopping and some relaxation. You can get a massage in HCMC for as little as $5!! I got a manicure and pedicure for $6. Unbelievable! Something that struck me the entire time I was in Vietnam is how strenuously the women here work. Most of the vendors on the streets are women, and they really work you to get you to buy their food, books, clothing, jewelry, DVD’s, etc. I went out to buy one pair of jeans and walked away with three! That woman worked me! (I got a little better at bargaining after that). It’s so hard to talk someone down from an already low price, especially compared to American standards. Out on the Mekong river, our canoes full of heavy American and Australian tourists were powered by the strong paddling of two tiny Vietnamese women. I’m told they only make about $1 - $2 per day. It is hard work but it is what they have to do. Poverty is abundant here, and these women have to feed their families, and earn a living. I admire their strength – it is a necessity in this society. I just hope they get to indulge themselves every now and then with a massage, a quiet float down the river or a steaming bowl of Pho that they didn’t have to make themselves. My views on Vietnam have come full circle. I will never forget that many bloody and tragic wars have taken place here. I will never completely understand why. But I won’t think of these things when I remember my trip to Vietnam. I will think of the children laughing and playing in the parks and in the streets, the buzz of the city and the calmness in the countryside; and beautiful, hardworking people, welcoming foreigners into their homes. And I hope that our little visit here has brought even a subtle boost to their economy, their livelihood, and I will pray for their peace from now on.