August 26, 2001-Lost and Found
(photos:
Viet Cong charmer,
Dao Dai Temple)
Last night we went to dinner by taxi. It was obvious our driver didn’t know where we were going. He pulled over to call his dispatcher for directions and stopped people on the street. We’d given him a card with the name and address of the restaurant written in Vietnamese and the doorman at the hotel gave him directions in Vietnamese, but he and we were lost in Saigon. When we finally arrived after a rather interesting tour of some of the back streets of the city, he didn’t take anything off the meter. At home, we would have protested. Here, the overcharge was pennies and he’d have been penalized for being short at the end of his shift.
David declared me to be hooked on noodles in spite of attempts to try other dishes. We call it noodle envy. I succumbed last night and did have a fantastic noodle dish with beef, peanuts, scallions, and garlic (of course).
Eau d’Saigon
Just came back from my usual breakfast of miso soup, cereal, and fruit. It’s my attempt at helping world peace. If the food from different countries can get along in my stomach, maybe there’s hope for the governments. The rain has stopped, but the sun isn’t out yet. Hopefully, it will stay hidden. We do use sunscreen even when it’s overcast, but it’s a chore to keep slathering the sticky stuff on as we sweat it off.
This hotel is heavily Japanese. For the first time David said he felt out of place. He didn’t feel odd man out in Japan because our hotels had lots of Westerners. I just go along feeling I belong anywhere. I haven’t felt other or minority. Of course, I notice the size difference, but I’m so used to being treated as the entitled white, I unconsciously carry it with me. I wonder if I’ll feel that way in Africa?
At 7:30 A.M. we headed to the jungle, but first, we had to drop off our laundry. While David was in the shop watching the woman count our undies using tongs, I sat in the car. I saw a young boy come down some steps to an entryway. He was naked from the waist down. He placed a piece of plastic on the floor and (faint of stomach, stop reading here) defecated onto it. As he was squatting, an acquaintance came by to chat. Now that’s seeing how the locals really live.
Maybe the temperature will go down to 80. Yesterday it was 85 and I really didn’t sweat too much. I must be going native. I’ll really be a native when I stop noticing the smell outside. Pollution is one thing. In big cities my eyes are constantly bloodshot. But there’s an Asian smell to the air. I noticed it in China, Japan, here. Those of you who’ve traveled in Asia will remember it. It’s a combination of soy, bean curd, fish, yeast, and sewage. It must be in the water, because clothes laundered here smell of it too.
Another Long Drive
We had an hour and a half ride to the tunnels of Cu Chi. They’re 65km. (about 40 miles) from Saigon. Motorbikes were out in force along with ox carts, bike-pulled carts, bikes, pedestrians, dogs, cats, water buffalo, trucks, and lots of puddles. To make it more fun, the road was under construction and sewer lines were being laid. For this we paid a toll. After all, this was Highway #1. I’ll never complain about our toll roads again. The guide, Ban, mentioned that a Trans Asia Highway was being built. It would unite Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Viet Nam. They better have peace now. They’ll be too well connected to have war.
Ban also told us that Viet Nam has lots of offshore oil, which they sell as crude. Now they’re building refineries. Don’t get the idea that Viet Nam’s on the way to being a petroleum power anytime soon. The infrastructure isn’t there.
I asked where the rich people lived and he said there are certain areas for them and there are ghettos for the poor like we have. He knew of Harlem and made a face when he said that’s where “Negroes” live. I told him that Bill Clinton has an office there because Bill Clinton grew up knowing lots of blacks and is very comfortable in Harlem.
I’d noticed baguettes and bread for sale along the road. I hadn’t seen bread when we'd visited China. He told us the French brought bread to Viet Nam. He really likes croissants. He also loves fruit cocktail that the U.S. soldiers had. Vietnamese would be given extras by the soldiers and re-sell it.
Tunnels
Ban explained that some tunnels were built during the French occupation but were extended to over 200 km in length during the Viet Nam War. They were built in three levels. The top level had conference rooms, storerooms for food and munitions, a medical area, and kitchens. There was an elaborate system of pipes and baffles to slowly release smoke from cooking. It looked like ground fog by the time it reached ground level. The other levels had booby traps, living quarters, wells, and escape routes to the Saigon River. All levels had air vents. The soil from the excavating was piled on top of land mines. When the mines exploded dirt was scattered and undetectable.
The allies tried many ways to locate and destroy the tunnels. They used dogs to sniff them out. At first the Viet Cong put pepper on top of the openings, but the dogs would sneeze and give the location away. Later, Viet Cong laid the clothing of American G.I.'’s on top of the openings so the dogs weren’t interested. Tunnel Rats (small G.I.'’s) were used to crawl into the openings, but the extreme narrowing of passages made it impossible even for our smallest G.I.'’s. We tried to flood the tunnels, but they’d all been built so water flowed downhill to the river. Chemicals weren’t too effective because doors were built at intervals and closed to contain the poison. We even dropped what they called American grass. It was an extremely fast growing grass the allies later burned with napalm. When the Viet Cong came out of the tunnels, their footprints were left in the chemicals from the napalm and the tunnels could be found.
Before going into the tunnels, we watched a propaganda video about a beautiful Viet Cong girl who was a peasant by day, but fought the South Vietnamese from the tunnels at night. It really brought home the G.I.'s inability to tell friend from foe. We then saw a display of land mines made from unexploded U.S. bombs and booby traps made from bamboo stakes. Our guide proudly showed us one diabolical trap called the fishhook. When it was stepped on, a spike was driven into the sole of the foot. As the soldiers tried to free their mate the Viet Cong shot at them. The efforts to free the victim were in vain, because there were spikes that were pointing down at an angle that would spear his leg as he tried to pull free. There were many variations on the theme. European tourists cavorted and posed for photos. Japanese climbed on the captured tank and posed with the booby traps. I was nauseous.
In Their Shoes
We tramped through the jungle that has re-grown over time walking on a slippery path in almost unbreathable humidity. We began to understand the terror of the young boys who marched in heavy uniforms, wearing boots, carrying a full pack, and toting a gun. Any step might be their last. Their nerves had to have been frayed beyond belief. Villagers who helped them during the day might spring out and kill them at any moment. It’s psychological torture that few are equipped to survive without lasting scars. It was a schizophrenic existence based on reality.
We descended into tunnels widened for Western tourists. It was then I realized I’d worn white shorts for the occasion. There was no way not to get red clay on us as we crawled, waddled, and hoisted ourselves through the maze. It was hot, dark, and dank. I never really knew what dank meant until now. I didn’t fare too badly. I got bitten by a couple of fire ants, but David had to buy a shirt after his crawl. His was unwearable.
When we surfaced, we got to eat cooked tapioca root dipped in peanuts and salt like the Viet Cong ate. The man who served it to us was the son of Viet Cong. Our guide was sure to proudly point that out.
As David was changing his shirt, Ban asked if I wanted to look at the war memorabilia in the gift shop. I told him that I was totally uninterested. I found the experience so upsetting I didn’t want to spend another penny there. I still think that the U.S. shouldn’t have been in Viet Nam and it was unwinable, but my heart goes out to those who went. As far as the Viet Cong tunnelers go, they were traitors, pure and simple. They betrayed the South and betrayed us. As a reward they got free houses built for them by the new government.
From War To Peace
As we got ready to go to our next stop, a temple, I mentioned that we were going from war to peace. Ban said we were going from war to tradition. It seems that war is a tradition.
We headed for Dao Dai. Of course it was an hour and a half away. This religion is unique to Viet Nam. It was formed in 1937, by a man wanting to unite Taoism, Confucianism, Buddhism, and Christianity. The church/temples celebrate four masses a day, every day. They once used mediums and have male and female priests. This sect has its own villages, like Vatican City, with a government and army of its own. At one time they had one million members. The present government isn’t too fond of them and banned the mediums who used Ouija boards to prophesy. We got to see a mass held in a huge cathedral-like building. There were spires, Asian roof lines, a mosque-like dome, and an altar. Followers wearing white, red, or blue robes sit on the floor chanting. A choir is accompanied by a small band. It’s quite hypnotic. What a unique experience! Our guide was flippant about the whole event, which I found offensive. It did lead him to ask a series of questions about Judaism and showed he had little knowledge of what we actually believe or how we worship. One point of interest was how the yarmulke stays on. David happened to have one in the backpack and demonstrated.
Wrapping It Up
At lunch we tasted a fruit called longen. It looks like a tiny golf ball sized green orange but has clear white fruit inside like lychee. A large black seed is visible through the fruit. The whole thing looks like an eyeball. It’s delicious.
As we hurtled back to town at 80-100 kph, I fell asleep. David says as far as being able to fall asleep anywhere this was my personal best. I ignored the honking, veering, and chaos of the ride. An hour and a half later we were in Saigon where all trees are numbered so their health can be monitored and they can be treated. A whimsical touch.
We got our laundry back and it’s not dry. I don’t think they have dryers and there was no sun today. The newly washed laundry smells of pollution. David’s now decking our room out in our wet “gotkes” (underwear).
The day was arduous, but never think that these experiences aren’t wonderful in the literal sense. Our minds are so full we can absorb only so much now. Retrospect is a good thing for tourists.
Tomorrow we go to Siem Reap, Cambodia home of the Khmer Rogue. It’s unbelievable. We’re heading right into the heart of the enemy’s lair. Communism idealized human nature and didn’t turn out to be the panacea it was in theory. People work harder when something’s in it for them. They haven’t gotten to the point of being able to want to work for the good of their neighbors. Capitalism is a selfish, self-serving system. We work for profit and to make our own lives better. The key in capitalism is teaching that it’s good to share our bounty with the less fortunate. It’s about teaching a person how to fish not just giving him the fish. I think David’s given that sermon.
Toby
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