Sunday in Saigon: Why I Travel

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Can I learn more from a Sunday in Saigon than an entire semester at Iowa State?

I woke up Sunday morning and walked out the cramped alley our guesthouse is jammed inside and saw streets bustling with activity. Maybe not bustling; Saigon is always bustling. Maybe... overflowing with riotous activity. The whole neighborhood turned into a giant market, and everyone showed up. Eating breakfast, chatting up acquaintances, hawking goods, buying from friends. I sat down with Rachel and a clutch of locals at the pho stand just out our alley for breakfast. Pho is a noodle soup, the noodle soup as far as Vietnam is concerned. Pho is the national dish, and it has as many varieties as can be imagined. Beef, chicken, fish, squid, pork, tofu, chili or no, would you like cilantro with that? For a part of Vietnam pho is the food, every meal, every day. It's filling. I ate pho with the thousands of people around me and gained solidarity. It cost me less than 50 cents.

After breakfast I walked out into the far too busy streets. We're not staying in any of the hotel districts really, so among the thousands we passed I never saw another Westerner. I also never saw somebody treat me any different than anyone else on the street. What I did see was how the world functions when the average GDP per capita is less than $5,000. It's not organized into malls and department stores, it's not set out on shelves for you to peruse. It's flooding the streets: chickens running around, meats being cleaved, live fish flopping around in shallow dishes, coconuts cut open, and through it all the motos are always weaving. It smells. Not bad, but alive. I learned how so many people live, and I learned that it's a way of life. Just like interstates, sidewalk cafes, or eating with your hands.

I walked into an internet station, and saw young kids playing computer games online, the same computer games everyone sits around playing in America. They were probably even playing with people in America. I learned how connected we are.

I had a banh mi for lunch, and saw how a culture can take something they never asked for but sill received (baguettes brought around French colonialism in this case) and make it their own. My banh mi had liver pate, a sauce of some sort, a couple of meats, a variety of veggies, and chilies. It was awesome.

I walked by the Reunification Palace, where the South Government was headquartered during the American War (you didn't think the Vietnamese would call it the Vietnam War did you?) and what became the symbol of the North's victory when it finally fell. Nowadays, couples have their wedding pictures taken in the palace gardens, which seems a little wrong to an American perspective. But why wouldn't they? All these young couples care about is that their current government is providing them with a good, on the rise standard of living. I learned how different the perspectives we have can be.

Now it gets hard.

I went to the War Remnants Museum, and I saw just that - remnants. I faced painful truths, and it hurt.
Can you look at photos of massacred civilians, brutal torture, piles of dead bodies of all nationalities, napalm scars, surrounded by people crying, and walk away feeling fine?
Can you walk into a room and face the horror of Agent Orange? Can you see 20 real life stories of twisted faces, missing limbs, psychotic infants kept in cages otherwise they bite everything around them, deformed fetuses... and not have tears in your eyes?
Can you see that beggar with no legs and a skin defect now and not want throw all your money at him and run far, far away with guilt?
I can't.
I went through the War Remnants Museum, an indistinct concrete building that overwhelms you, makes you question yourself and humanity. What am I doing here? Tourism?
It's like walking through the Holocaust Museum in DC but having to feel responsible.
I also saw Rachel's first close encounter with a darker moment in the USA's past, and I saw an innocent part of her world shatter. And that hurt just as bad.

I learned...

But now it gets better.

I walked from the museum in a daze. Coherent thoughts? Yeah, right. Cross the street. Right turn. Left turn. I walked into a park, and then everything got better. The city gave way to an oasis of green. A playground greeted me as I walked in, and it was filled with children running around, scooping up sand, see-sawing, climbing up ladders, and screaming with excitement. A group of teenagers hung around nearby, flirting, smearing food on each others faces, running around, and laughing. Families were out for the evening - parents and grandparents walking their toddlers through the park and taking pictures. I stood there, in the middle of it all, and just watched. People walked by and gave me huge smiles; younger people said "hello" and "see you". Vietnam was telling me "We're doing OK, thanks for checking." I learned that, no matter what happens, we're still all people; we still all do the same things, maybe just different ways. It was moving.

It was hard to leave. Was I happy eating crabs in Singapore? Sitting in that park makes crabs look so insignificant. Rachel and I decided to leave, then 15 minutes later we actually stood up. As we walked by the playground on the way out, a little girl in a bright neon green dress ran over to me.
Hello!
(smile bursting out on my face) Hello!
What's your name?
My name is Joshua. What's yours?
My name is Than Ni.
Nice to meet you Than Ni.
Nice to meet you too Joshua.
She runs off, and I now have a grin too big for my face.
Rachel and I stand and watch her and the other kids another 15 minutes.

I walked, blissfully yet painfully, from the park. I walked along the main streets of Saigon, and learned that Sunday night is couples' night. Every boy had his girl on the back of his moto, and every moto was cruising the town. Girls had to sit side-saddle because they were wearing dresses - everyone was dressed in their finest. Sometimes a moto would stop and park, and a couple would sit on a bench for a while. I could feel the optimism in the air just through breathing. As a great travel writer said, "to be young and sexy is a great equalizer." I learned that a young generation, one that is just like mine, one that doesn't have the scars of the past, is one of the greatest things in the world. And that restores my hope.

And that is why I travel.

Can I learn more from a Sunday in Saigon than an entire semester at Iowa State?

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Comments

[Angel]

Wow, Josh. That's really all I can say. You write with such truth and vividness. Reading these makes me feel as though I'm there with you, and I love that. You're amazing and it sounds like you are having an amazing time. By the way, I think you would make Anthony Bourdain proud. ; )