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Published: July 28th 2009
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Hmmm....
To cross the street or not to cross the street... Acts of Kindness
I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City on a rainy afternoon after a border crossing from hell. Feeling wrung out and exhausted, I allowed myself to be persuaded into one of the lurking taxi’s who were issuing promises of a ‘cheap guesthouse’. When I asked him how much the taxi ride would cost, he pointed to the front seat and said ‘meter…no worries’. Foolishly, I got in.
The meter was in dong, which I did not have, and when I asked the driver whether I could use USD instead he said no. Alarm bells should have begun ringing in my head at this point as USD are always a welcome substitute for local currency over here. He offered to stop at an ATM machine on the way. While I jumped out and got some cash, the meter continued ticking away. When I got back into the taxi I was alarmed to see that the 8,000 dong fair had miraculously jumped up to a staggering 368,000 dong. Though I was ignorant of exactly what the conversion rate was at this point, it was quite evident that I was getting royally ripped off. This suspicion was confirmed when
Name that aircraft!
Some of the many relics outside of the War Remnants Museum I was later able to barter the supposedly fixed taxi fair down by 50%. Even still though, my 5 minute taxi ride ended up costing me more then the 5 hour bus ride from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City. I really hate taxi drivers.
The following morning I ventured out into the crazy chaos of HCMC. First stop was breakfast, as I had barely eaten in the past 24 hours. While I was getting served at a tiny restaurant in the center of town, I began chatting with my waitress. Phuong was an incredibly nice girl from a nearby town who made the 1 hour commute to Saigon every day in order to work in the restaurant and practice her English skills. We hit it off immediately, and so when she suggested that we go out shopping at the end of her shift, I couldn’t say yes fast enough.
In the meantime, I decided to check out the War Remnants Museum. Old tanks, planes, helicopters, and weapons were strewn about the surrounding courtyard. Inside the museum itself, a collection of excerpts and photographs from the war gave a vividly detailed account of this horrible period in
Photographs from the war
A woman protecting her children as soldiers search the village history. The information and photographs were chosen and displayed in such a way as to portray American soldiers as ruthless and inhumane and depict the Vietnamese as hapless victims. Several times I came across information which I knew to be blatant lies. But I had a hard time resenting this fact when I came across the horrific damage that Agent Orange has wreaked among the people and surrounding countryside. This deadly chemical, dumped over Vietnam during the way, had some horrific effects on future generations of children. It was difficult to keep my breakfast down while I looked at the photographs and I was thankful that I had a few hours to shake off my morose mood before my shopping date that evening.
I had a great night with Phuong. She took me to both the tourist and local market, helped me bargain for some small things, and then took me on a walking tour of the city. She even presented me with a gift, a small hand embroidered money pouch, to thank me for the evening. We exchanged email addresses with promises to keep in touch. After hearing so many horror stories about the people in Vietnam, this
The effects of Agent Orange
The chemical has polluted a lot of the fields and water sources, to devastating effects experience came as a very pleasant surprise.
Of course, to counteract this positive first impression, I discovered later that night that my ipod was missing and my laptop was broken. It looked like someone had been messing with the stuff in my room while I was out. I found this to be a bit ironic, as I had deliberately left my valuables behind on account of hearing that pick pocketing was prevalent in HCMC. Thankfully I had insurance on my laptop. My ipod, however, was another story. And considering that every single bus in this country delights in blasting Chinese karaoke at full volume, I knew that it would be greatly missed in the coming months.
The next morning, my faith in the Vietnamese people was restored when the girl who sold me my ticket to see the Cu Chi tunnels learned about my broken laptop and offered to send her brother over to my guesthouse to take a look at it. It turns out that he worked in a computer repair shop, and so agreed to come over and see whether he could fix it. Free of charge. It’s like there is no middle ground here. Either
So sad...
...a whole generation of children have been impacted by Agent Orange the people do everything in their power to cheat you, or they do everything that they can to help you.
I spent the day visiting the tunnels at Cu Chi. This elaborate tunnel network was used by the Vietcom during the war. Our guide, a passionate man who fought in the American army, gave a detailed history of this oppressed country on the way to the tunnels. He was still so affected by the war that he spent half the time in tears and the other half in anger. Despite having belonged in the American army, he still seemed to harbour a lot of resentment against this country, which made the speech somewhat uncomfortable for the majority of people on the bus. I would have been nervous confessing myself to be American for fear that he would spit on me.
The tunnels were fascinating, and some of the traps that were placed throughout the forest for unwitting American soldiers were incredibly creative. The tour ended at a shooting range where we could pay to fire various rifles at some nearby targets. The booming sound of AK-47’s filled the air as fellow travelers forked over obscene amounts of money
The post office
On my city tour with Phuon for their turn with the gun. Feeling that it was a bit insensitive to capitalize on the horrors of war, I decided to take a pass. I’ll save my target practice for the groundhogs at the cottage.
That night, after learning that it would take about a week to repair my laptop, I booked a ticket to go down to the floating markets of Can Tho the following morning. While I loved Ho Chi Minh City, I feared that spending an entire week here would be hazardous to my health. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I managed to get run over by one of the obscenely crazy motorbike drivers zipping through the congested streets.
Signing out,
Jen
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