Vietnam Day 63 (8/10/09)

My breakfast this morning was a “xinh to xoai” on the go as we walked to visit a pagoda. It was a much longer walk than I’d anticipated and the weather was oppressively hot. The walk was worth it though – we saw both the best and the worst of Saigon, watching a couple take wedding photos in the park only to walk across the street and see a slew of puppies and kittens crammed into a tiny wire cage on the back of a motorbike. I’ve been taking a lot more notice of the construction around the city after coming back from Dinh Thuy. The piles of brick, sand, and stone seem so familiar and as we walked past one worker mixing cement, I fought the urge to go over and do it for him. I see these construction workers more as artisans now, cutting off just the right length of brick and smoothing the cement to perfection. I also never realized that even construction workers in the city sometimes mix cement by hand, something you don’t often see in America.

The pagoda reminded me of the Hindu temple a little in that this too was set within a compound of apartments, though this one was much bigger than the one around the Hindu temple. There wasn’t much on the ground floor apart from a gift shop selling books, incense, and the little clay figures of Buddha people place in their personal shrines. We went upstairs to go inside the pagoda but to get there, men and women have to use different staircases (men up the stairs on the left, women on the right). When we met at the top, we found there was nowhere else to go because the attendant there hurriedly dead-bolted the door and disappeared. We were dumbfounded – I don’t know if we did something wrong or if they were closing anyway and we just have bad timing, but either way it was weird. We waited for a few minutes but there was nothing more we could do so we just left.

On our way to find a cab, we came across a little ice cream parlor that was all pink inside with photos of Marilyn Monroe on the walls. They had some pretty unusual flavors, among them tamarind which I ordered. The flavor packed a punch, but it wasn’t even as strong as Kendra’s durian ice cream (which was a brilliant choice since no one except me wanted to steal any of it). We were all walked-out by this point so we took a cab to the Lunch Lady for one last visit. The soup was superb as always and rather pleasantly reminiscent of the first soup I ever had at her stand (except this one was made with seafood), oily and rich with a little spicy kick. I was quite pleased with this repeat soup since first lunch here was my favorite out of the four. The Lunch Lady gave us a broad parting smile and I walked away wishing the flavor of her soup would stay on my tongue until my next visit, whenever that may be.

We then proceeded to the Diamond Plaza movie theater to see Harry Potter 6. The ticket cost 60,000 dong ($3 US), which is the cheapest movie I’ve been to in a long time even though this is one of the most expensive theaters in Saigon. It was very clean and nice though I was surprised how small the actual showing room was. We ended up pretty close to the screen because there were so few rows (no stadium seating necessary here), but then the screen was smaller than the average American one so it all balanced out. There weren’t previews but there were hilariously cheesy Vietnamese commercials (including one for the Tropicana Twister drinks I bought so often in Ben Tre). Perhaps it was the Vietnamese subtitles or the group of people I was with but this movie-going experience was much different from any other I’ve had. Even though it wasn’t a very good movie, I managed to escape into the world of J.K. Rowling and forgot where I was in the world. Only when I walked outside did I realize I’m still in Southeast Asia and don’t have much time left here.

Remember how happy I was to be rid of Saigon Square? Turns out that was all an illusion as I was forced to go back today. Alex, Kendra, and I were all afraid our suitcases would go over the 50lb weight limit (in which case the airlines would charge us $150), so we figured the most effective solution would be to simply buy more luggage. Saigon Square wasn’t nearly as offensive now that I had a set goal in mind. I knew exactly what I wanted and how much I as willing to pay so we quickly sought out mimic Kipling duffels. I was starving by the time we finished shopping. I was too hungry to be picky about what I ate but I was aware that I only have a limited number of meals left so I still wanted to make it special. We found a nice compromise getting “com ga,” which is fast and cheap but also nostalgic because of all the times I ate it when we first got here. While we were eating, I had a moment where I felt like I’d never left, as if Ben Tre never happened. It kind of scared me because it made me think…what if I get back to the U.S. and the same thing happens – what if I forget that this whole experience in Vietnam happened. I’d like to think that’s not possible and I’ll always keep part of Vietnam with me, but who really knows until I get back.

We made one last venture to the back-packers district to walk around and look at the shops. I think I was tired of the touristy souvenirs anyway but I felt more self-conscious even looking in these stores because My had come with us. It was a little awkward because she kept mentioning how these things weren’t authentically Vietnamese (which of course we knew, but this made it even more apparent) and I knew everything must have seemed so expensive to her. It was also a strange feeling to look around and see almost all white people. It seems especially abnormal after returning from Ben Tre, where we were the only foreigners. I’m so unaccustomed understanding strangers’ conversations as they pass. Usually all the conversations around me are in Vietnamese and eventually it turns into white noise and I slip into my own thoughts. Suddenly hearing English around me is actually kind of annoying – it’s jarring not to be able to hear myself think. If I can’t even tune out a few English conversations, how am I going to tune out the chatter of every passing American in the U.S. – it could be maddening. I’ve been thinking a lot about this kind of thing lately. The past few days have been spent in total anticipation of going home, trying to make the most out of every minute here while constantly wondering what it will be like when I get back. It’s surreal to think that tomorrow’s my last day in Vietnam and after that I’ll be leaving all of this behind for who knows how long. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.