What A Long Strange Trip it Been
Trip Start
Apr 22, 2008
1
18
26
Trip End
Sep 01, 2008
Ho Chi Minh City,
Vietnam
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Part of my time in Saigon was dedicated to getting a yellow fever vaccine. I have extended my travels and will be venturing to Africa at the beginning of July (hence the need for the vaccine) to dive in the waters of Mozambique, climb Mt Kilimanjaro, horseback ride with the zebras in the Okavango Delta, and tip back a few sundowners in South Africa
Hotel de Ville and Ho Chi Minh
. We spent the previous night chasing down a medical clinic that had the vaccine and our morning started with reception helping us to make an appointment. After securing an appointment at a Saigon clinic for an injection of the live vaccine (yes, it is a little shady) we took to the streets in search of communist propaganda art. The city is full of reproduction galleries making copies of the greatest works from the west (Monet, da Vinci, van Gough, etc) but my search for art was not really playing in the "Last Supper" space. A little perseverance and a lot of luck brought us to a gallery showcasing copies of war propaganda published by the Viet Cong. They were your classic communist technique, showcasing vacant expressions, guns, women and children, hammer and sickle, peace doves and some crazy CRAZY slogans. A few examples are:-Hooray. 4000 American bombers down
-Keep your knives high to support peace
-Victory will be ours
-Never let them escape
The pieces were amazing snapshots of a point in our collective history and I jumped at the chance to have a sample of these works
Kate gets her yellow fever vaccine
.Paintings in hand, we walked to the War Remnants Museum, a disturbing memorial to one of the darkest smudges in American history. As you all know, the Vietnam war (or American war as it is referred to in Vietnam) was fought in the age of print media. Photographs captured the atrocities committed in the name of both communism and democracy. Exhibits included American war technology, chemical warfare, victims of napalm and agent orange, POW cells, international protests and personal accounts of the civilians whose lives were ruined by the cruel and unusual tactics of the Americans (e.g. the My Lai Massacre).
Our history, unsurprisingly, sterilizes this period and to see photo evidence bearing witness to these events was emotionally exhausting. Babies blown to pieces, GIs dragging suspected VCs behind trucks, soldiers decapitating detainees and countless images of the subsequent generations disfigured as a result of the millions of gallons of pesticides that were sprayed across the country. I felt embarrassed, ashamed and physically sick. An excerpt from the Declaration of Independence stating that "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." To see these words that create the backbone of the American national psyche juxtaposed by graphic images of the atrocities sanctioned by our government turned my shame into anger
Unexpected plants on a bike
. What right did we have to be there? What was the end goal? Why the fuck was a defense secretary like McNamara allowed to wield so much power so cavalierly? What could have happened to the conscience of individual soldiers to allow them to perform these activities as an unthinking, unquestioning mob? How do any of these people sleep at night? How have the Republicans nominated a candidate for US President during another time of uncalled for war mongering (this time with Muslims rather than Communists as the scapegoat) who played a part in all of this? We went through the exhibits in silence and eventually made our way to a curb a few blocks from the complex. Horrified, confused and at a loss for words we were approached by two cyclo-drivers who sat down and engaged us in a conversation. They were in their 50s to 60s, South Vietnamese and very pro-American. One had a mother and father shot execution style by the VC and the other fought with the Americans and was subsequently arrested and imprisoned by the VC in Hanoi from 1973-1975. The family of the later escaped to the US with refugee visas. The soldier described shooting VCs from helicopters with his American comrades, pantomiming the recoil of an automatic weapon. Unable to process everything in our shattered emotional states we eventually excused ourselves to wander the streets aimlessly, shell shocked by the events that had just transpired.
One thing that was gleaned from the two weeks in Vietnam is that this country is still healing. Behind the outward expressions carried by those capable of remembering the war are countless stories that never allow people to completely come to terms with the era. People harboring anti-VC and those with pro-communist sentiments glide coolly past one another on the backs of motorbike in the streets of Hanoi and Saigon.
Stumbling through the streets with little real direction we were approached (as is the case with travelers in Vietnam!) and asked to go have a massage. Unable to process much at this time it seemed like as good an option as any. Zoning out for an hour in spite of the intermittent shutters of the building stemming from the demolition taking place next door, we came back down to Earth and stepped onto the street able to function at a much higher level.
From the spa we headed to the only clinic in town where we could score our yellow fever vaccines: a small office on the side of the highway with an "open air" waiting room. The sitting area consisted of some plastic chairs on the side of the road. Why chose this location? There were no appointments for the next month at any of the 3 distribution centers in Tokyo (yes, the largest city on earth with a population of 20 million only has three clinics that distribute the vaccine...WTF) so there really wasn't much choice in the matter. Thankfully we thought to have our concierge confirm everything before our arrival because upon exiting the taxi it became clear that we were the only Caucasians and the only two people capable of speaking English. Moving amongst the stares from everyone waiting at the clinic located well outside of the District 1 tourist trap, the woman at the desk yelled "yellow fever" and we went to her. Payment was made through a series of gesturing and writing down numbers. I reviewed the packaging and confirmed that the box, written in English, was indeed what we wanted, was aseptically packaged and had not expired. 20 minutes later no worse for the wear we left the clinic with our yellow books stamped. Needless to say I would not have wanted any procedures in that place. I think my kitchen is more sterile.
Kate left to return to Tokyo and I will be following her in the next few h ours. For now I am in the lobby of the Park Hyatt, sipping a white Russian, listening to a piano player, writing about the days events and wondering if everything could have actually played out in the manner it did. Well, I've got some art, a museum ticket stub, relaxed neck and shoulders and a stamp in my yellow book to validate what would otherwise be an unbelievable way of spending 10 hours in Saigon.
