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Published: March 26th 2009
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I'd been steeling myself for Saigon, having been warned that it was hot and hectic, sprawling and difficult to navigate. But we find ourselves dropped off at 6am in a cool misty rain, onto a clean, wide tree-lined boulevard of a clearly prosperous district. The sleeper bus was pretty weird - the coach was divided up into 3 rows of bunk beds which run the length of the vehicle. The bunks are so narrow you can only lie on your back, which makes for a symphony of snoring. Transport has got easier the further south we've gone though. Organising tickets has been totally straightforward the last couple of times and the heavy tout presence in the north seems to have eased.
Unfortunately most hostels are still shut and the few with unlocked doors grumpily inform us that check in is almost 6 hours away at midday. We are shattered and head to a cafe for coffee and eggs whilst we decide what to do. Ritch goes off on a reccy and strikes it lucky...a lady opening up her tailor shop had spotted us, and offers to rent us one of her upstairs rooms...it's clean and cheap and we can check
in immediately. We sleep til midday and refreshed, head out to explore the city on foot.
It is big and busy, maybe not as pretty as Hanoi but certainly not as noisy (somehow the moped horns don't seem so shrill here) and we find it easy to get our bearings. The rain has stopped for now, but the sky is still heavy with cloud so we decide to stick to indoor activities. After dropping off our passports and visa applications at the Cambodian Embassy, we head to the nearby War Remnants Museum.
I thought I knew a lot about the Vietnam War (or the American War, as it's called here) having studied it for my History GCSE, but mostly at the hands of Stone, Copolla et al, but what I see today shakes and upsets me to the core. Now I know that the museum has bias, but you can't argue with the facts and statistics (and there's a lot of awful lists in that place), all brutally illustrated by some of the most incredible photo journalism I've ever seen. The level of inhumanity shown by the US Army is deeply disturbing. The massive usage of chemical and
biological weapons, and the scale of the devastation still being felt throughout this region is enough to stop you in your tracks and question everything you thought you knew about 'democracy'. The disregard for the UN Conventions of Human Rights is staggering and I'm left wondering why these politicians and generals were never brought to account for their war crimes. And I wonder why lessons are never learned and the same mistakes are repeated over again.
And I wonder how the Vietnamese really feel about us Western tourists; are we and our capitalist dollar seen as a necessary evil? It has felt that way sometimes. I think we're lucky to have been here during Tet, as we saw early on a more relaxed and welcoming side that otherwise we may not have experienced. There have been times when ruthless entrepreneuralism has been really wearing and can leave you feeling a bit used and therefore disconnected. We've also felt that as we've headed south, in tune with the hotter weather, people have seemed warmer and to have more time. Maybe it's also that over the past few weeks we've acclimatised to how things are here, and know better how to
deal with potentially stressful situations with patience. Whatever the reasons, my experience of Vietnam is getting better and better the longer we're here.
The rest of our time in Saigon is spent walking all over the city; exploring pagodas and parks (where the love police come and tell us off for a public display of affection...ooops!), eating excellent fish pho in the impressive central market, and getting an amazing (and non-rude...a rarity here!) massage. We go to the Blind Institue, a brilliant charity that trains local blind people as masseurs so they can make a decent living. Vietnamese massage concentrates on the joints rather than the muscles, and is a bit pinchy/slappy at times. After an hour of being semi beaten up by the nice blind lady I feel incredible (if a little wobbly) and wake the next morning feeling loose and ready to cram myself into a minibus headed into the Mekong Delta.
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