The Real Vietnam
Trip Start
Oct 15, 2008
1
23
41
Trip End
Ongoing
Dalat,
Vietnam
Thursday, December 18, 2008
As I continue my southern descent towards Saigon it has become increasingly apparent that the tourist infrastructure in Vietnam is expanding at a malignant and unsustainable pace. In every major tourist city, guest houses outnumber tourists 2 to 1, motorbike drivers 5 to 1 (margin of exaggeration = +50%). Everywhere I go I am followed by calls of "Hello! Where you from!", which is Vietnamese for "Hi. I see that you are white. How may I partake in your wealth?". Some vendors skip the BS altogether and just shout out "Buy something!". Plagued by ceaseless touting, my reaction to anything close to "Hello" coming from a Vietnamese person is to avert my eyes and speed walk in the opposite direction. Not the most effective approach towards cultural exchange. My only meaningful interactions with the Vietnamese thus far have been with tour guides, all of whom have very limited English vocabulary. In traveling to Vietnam, my hope was to gain a better understanding for the country's history of colonialism, war, communism, and the recent economic restructuring. Instead I have struggled with a void of educational opportunities, and my experiences are thus marred with a sense of emptiness.
That all changed when I met Tony. Yesterday I was walking the streets of Dalat when I heard the ever-present siren's call, "Hello! Where you from!." Something about the man's tone made me stop and entertain his sales pitch. His English was impeccable and the suggested itinerary intriguing, so I gave in and signed on for a one day motorbike tour of Dalat and the surrounding area, from which I have just returned.
Tony is a member of a band of transient tour guides who call themselves The Easy Riders. [At lunch Tony gave me the nickname, Easy Eater.] Within minutes of picking me up this morning, Tony was quick to shed all pretenses and pronounce his disdain for Americans and the American government. It was the first time I have heard a Vietnamese openly assert this tacitly implied sentiment and I couldn't have appreciated it more. As much as he loathes America, his enmity towards the Vietnamese government is even greater. In a country polarized by years of war and oppression, there are many sides to the truth. Nonetheless, Tony's story is very compelling. A soldier for South Vietnam during the war, Tony was sent to a re-education camp after reunification. Upon his return from the camp, Tony was blacklisted by the communist government and barred from pursuing any position of power or prestige. The greatest injustice of all is that Tony's children and their children are also assigned the same fate; blocked from the educational and professional opportunities afforded their peers of North Vietnamese (communist) descent. Tony's predicament is shared by many South Vietnamese. For example, only North Vietnamese can become soldiers or policemen. With Tony as my guide, the usual tourist landmarks - temples, waterfalls, mountains, etc. - took on a new significance: Mountains scarred by the lingering affects of Napalm, ornate villas built on protected land by corrupt government officials, pine forests where once was jungle (pine trees are the only trees resilient enough and with shallow enough routes to grow in soil contaminated by agent orange). I finally felt as though I were seeing the real Vietnam.
An Easy Rider for over 15 years, Tony has many connections in the area, which meant we were invited to sit down to tea with a number of locals: A coffee plantation owner, a group of fellow Easy Riders, and the boss of a silk factory. The boss of the silk factory was the most intriguing. Tony introduced him as a "very rich man". The Vietnamese have a penchant for truisms and so I taught the boss the American adage, "More money, more problems." At one point the boss' wife came outside and introduced herself as well. After she left, Tony remarked in a hushed voice that the boss entertains many concubines. This evolved into a discussion of karaoke. Tony asked me if I knew what it means for a Vietnamese man to "sing karaoke". I had am idea for where the conversation was headed. As I suspected, the karaoke bars in Vietnam are the equivalent of strip cubs in the US, only with singing and some touching. The latter distinction seemed to be a point of pride amongst the men. If a man wishes to take the karaoke bar interaction to the next level, he must first contact the pimp, a position reserved for women in Vietnam. Tony jokingly reflected that the silk factory boss loves to sing karaoke. I looked at the boss who sighed and pronounced, "More money, more problems."
Tomorrow I leave Dalat and travel by bus to Saigon. I'm hesitant to admit this, but up until a few weeks ago I thought Saigon and Ho Chi Minh City were two different cities.
Comments
the new vietnam
Becs, your portrayal of tourism and the response reminds me of the R&R time offs during the war in Singapore and Malaysia- then it was 'GI wanna ride and buy this'.
Your comments continue intriquing. Better luck in Saigon.
Dad