I returned
to Vietnam with a sense of expectation. I had read and heard stories of how
fast it was developing, and how Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) in particular had become
a vibrant and buzzing capital. It is in part true, but Saigon is still littered
with pockets of poverty. You don’t have to walk far to see people whose life is
a hand-to-mouth affair, and where the stench of rotting waste makes you hold
your breath, and piles of garbage collect on street corners and back lanes.
The first
sense you get of a country still languishing in the past is at the airport. The
arrival process is a shambles and the on arrival visa circus has been borrowed
from the Indian chaos experts to the west! If you have been lucky enough to discover
one of the several companies online who will fast track your visa process (for
around US$40) it only takes about 45 minutes, and you can sit back and joyfully
watch queues of people jockeying for position at the visa counter. Mayhem.
Saigon’s
Tan Son Nhat airport is about 8 kms from the centre of Saigon and the taxi
journey took about 45 minutes. As with so many Asian cities, traffic in Saigon
is a major problem, and the number of motorbikes has clearly grown as the city
has grown. In any Vietnamese town or city of any size crossing the road
involves negotiating a flood of motorbikes who will only slow down if you walk
out on to the road and make it clear that you want to cross. They DO slow down,
or swerve around you, but it is unnerving the first few times.
The
relative cool of the evenings are the best time to appreciate the buzz of the new
Saigon. Groups of happy young people move through the streets and open public
areas in groups or couples, and many buildings are lit up with neon. The taller
skyscrapers in fact become screens for giant light shows and constantly shape-shift
from one scene to another as they do on the Dubai marina or the Ginza in Tokyo.
The nights felt warm with promise but hide many secrets that the daylight
cannot conceal.
I thought I
would stay longer in Saigon but I had the feeling that I had seen the best of
it, or at least the crowds and intensity weren’t worth the effort, so I
scampered off to Can Tho in the delta region – a part of Vietnam I hadn’t been
to on previous visits.
I took a
private taxi to Can Tho – a delightful luxury. My 30 something driver and I
chatted with the help of Google Translate with a modicum of success. I was able
to tell him about my ESL teaching had resulted in close contact with many Vietnamese
people. As ‘the American War’ and its aftermath had occurred long before he was
born I felt like I had given him something of a history lesson. He didn’t seem
to mind, and in fact seemed to quite enjoy it. A bonus on this ride was that
this young man only played traditional Vietnamese folk music on his car stereo so
the 2.5 hour journey played out with a wonderful authentic soundtrack.
Can Tho
turned out to be much larger than expected. It has a population of roughly one
million – just a bit smaller than Adelaide. It’s situated on the junction of
the Hau and Can Tho rivers so sees a lot of river traffic. Big barges similar
to those which make their way up and down the major European rivers passed by
all day long.
Can Tho is
also the jumping off point for those who want to visit Vietnam’s most famous floating
market but …… it involves a 5.15 am departure and I decided I’d rather sleep in
and enjoy the amazing buffet breakfast at the Sheraton. I figured I’d be able
to organise some kind of boat journey from the many boatmen around the town
wharf but that didn’t work out. In this case the translation software was a
complete flop. And no one was interested in giving me a boat ride unless I was
part of a tour, or charging me as if I were 2 people. (In Luang Prabang in Laos
one could simply approach a boatman by the river and arrange a boat ride at a reasonable
price but it wasn’t the case here.) It was disappointing but I thought I might
do better in a smaller town. That turned out to be the case but I did enjoy a
couple of long walks along the river fronts in Can Tho. Just away from the riverfront on
one of these walks I think I saw a dog on a spit!
My next
port of call was Ben Tre, a much smaller delta town. As soon as I got there I
knew the decision to come here was a good one. A much smaller town. It felt
rural. All strung out along the Ben Tre River. I stayed in a huge hotel room
with a wonderful 10th floor view for about $50/night. The hotel
itself seemed an anomaly for such a small town but it apparently gets a lot of
visitors in peak season – mostly locals from Saigon looking for a delta break.
I was able
to negotiate a boat trip for the next day at a reasonable price – something I
was unable to achieve in Can Tho. So at a very civilized hour my guide met me
in the lobby and we made our way to the riverfront. It was low tide time so it
meant treading carefully through several metres of mud before heading off for
several hours of very cruisy river travel.
We began in
the Ben Tre river which was probably a couple of hundred metres wide. About
40 minutes later we arrived at a small
brick factory which was made more interesting by the fact that I wasn’t
expected to buy anything. We turned into
a smaller river at a large water junction and stopped at a place where they
made coconut candy. I would have been quite happy to buy some of the product
after I watched how it was made (quite a tedious and labour intensive process
actually) but I was then whisked off to other parts of quite a large shop that
sold a range of every imaginable product made from coconut – bowls, cutlery,
animal carvings etc. Of course I bought nothing of these (I’d just to have to
carry them home!) and it felt a little awkward as it always does.
The shop
also had a number of those exquisite treats you find in many Asian markets:
bottles containing liquid and various unlikely marinated creatures; crickets, frogs,
snakes. I was asked if I’d like to try one of these potions – some alcohol
infused with cobra (very good for older people I was told) and I politely refused.
A voice behind me said I should taste it and said it tasted just like whisky.
The guy and his female partner were obviously Vietnamese Australians and I
trusted them I guess so yes I took a sip or two. And yes it did taste just like
whisky.
The next
port of call was a little more embarrassing as I had to watch a couple of local
weavers again with the hope that I might buy some of their wares. It would have
been easier had I been part of a group but they were doing their weaving routine
just for me. I tried to be appreciative and grateful. I learned later that
during the day they will have large groups of people come through so I at least
knew then they would quite likely sell quite a bit across the day.
I had one
more embarrassment to endure before we returned to Ben Tre but first we entered
an even smaller channel and disembarked in a village and changed modes of
transport. A short 20 minute ride in the Vietnamese version of a tuk-tuk took
us deep into the jungle to places you’d never find on your own. I had a few
flashbacks to my time in Sri Lanka where Louise and I were fortunate enough to
know people who lived well off the beaten tracks and welcomed us into their humble
homes. I had forgotten what a privilege that whole time in Weligama had been;
experiencing life at a very basic level just as local people did. I laughed
when we got out of the tuk-tuk because even though it felt like we were now
deep into delta jungle territory there was a sign saying ‘Shop’! Across from
the ‘shop’ was a small hut with the name of the tour company my boatman and guide
from Ben Tre worked for. Behind the hut
was a wobbly rickety ramp leading down into a yet narrower channel with some
canoe like boats moored on the water.
From here
we (or at least our boatwoman did) paddled slowly down narrow channels overhung
with arched palm trees. It felt like a cathedral of palms. So quiet, calm, and relatively
cool in total shade. An even stronger feeling of being in a very strange
and wondrous place for someone who lives in a city far away. So close to nature and the
elements, and beholden to a life where you must hold them in great respect.
Definitely the highlight of the day and an intimate experience of what it means
to live in a delta where it’s only metres to the next waterway; as if the whole
thing floats on a waterbed.
Coming out
of this dream-like trance I was to face one further significant embarrassment.
My guide had referred to having a stop at a restaurant before heading back to
Ben Tre. I imagined a cool drink, coffee and a snack. Perfect for 11.00 am. But
no, I was seated at a fully set table that was clearly ready for a full-on
meal. And the first of several courses began to arrive. I protested and said I
wasn’t hungry but still this large beautifully presented cooked river fish was
put in front of me. Nothing I said could stop the food coming. I kept saying
this would be wasted but tried some of the fish to be polite and pretended to
be at least a little hungry. The local river fish delicacy was in fact quite underwhelming:
looked great but tasted quite bland.
To save
myself from more embarrassment and perhaps stop more food from coming I got up
from the table and went and waited down by the river where our boat was moored.
Someone chased after me and wanted money for the coffee I’d had – I thought it
would be included in the price of the tour.....
In the boat
on the way back the guide me told me he has asked the hotel where I was staying
if lunch should be included and they’d told him yes. (I had specifically told
them the day before that I did not want lunch. It was an optional extra.) So
there were some crossed wires somewhere. I realised while talking to him that
he would be the one who’d cop the expense if I refused to pay for the lunch. I
decided to pay for it because it did seem like an honest misunderstanding. He
was happy about that – he clearly appreciated it.
However, back
at the hotel a quite spirited discussion broke out between the reception staff
and the guide about who was to blame for the mix up. I kept out of it. I was still
glowing from the wonderful four hours we’d spent on the river that morning and didn’t
want to pursue it anymore. In a final note of pure class the guy on duty at
reception later said he had heard me say the day before that I did not want
lunch on the tour and refunded that amount off my hotel bill. That is looking after
the customer!
While
sitting on the ninth floor of this gorgeous hotel room later that day gazing
out across the delta I started reading a book I’d brought from home about the
impact of foreign wars on Vietnamese life, and it wasn’t long before I was in
tears. Vietnam has a ridiculously long history of wars against foreign
invaders. The Chinese, Mongols, the French, and Americans have all had a go at ruling
Vietnam but were all eventually defeated and had departed. The Americans and their
allies were the most recent on this list of the vanquished. And that of course
included us – Australians. We contributed to the unnecessary hell of the Vietnamese
people for 13 years (1962-75) – mass bombings, napalm and constant warfare. I
just felt sad and guilty sitting there knowing that my country had been part of
that madness. But the Vietnamese people bear no grudges it would seem, and I
have never felt anything but very welcome in their country.
On my final
morning in Ben Tre I went for a long walk to the edge of town where I found large
roundabouts with almost no traffic (yes it was possible to find somewhere in
Vietnam with almost no traffic!) – and back along the river through quiet
neighbourhoods that felt quite mellow.
My final leg
of this brief journey was back to Saigon airport. The first stages of this drive
went quite smoothly but the final hour involved inching our way through impossibly
crowded Saigon streets until we were suddenly at the airport.
With a
sense of relief and some sadness I waited in the lounge glad to be out of the
heat and the chaos, but a little weighed down by the thought that maybe this
was my last time in SE Asia. It gets harder each time; I feel the tropical heat
more keenly each time and it’s slowing me down. I don’t like to think that it
could be the last time, but I have to accept that may be the case. I love it –
always have. The smells, the chaos, the beauty, the smiles, and the wonderful
feeling that wherever you go in SE Asia you are welcome. Apart from my shock introduction to it as a 19 year old, I have always felt very at home there.
However, in
terms of my initial expectations of economic progress and improved standards of
living this trip was a bit of a let down. Despite currently being rated one of the fastest
growing economies on the planet Vietnam still has a long way to go before all its people live free of squalor.
