Vietnam Day 5 (6/12/09)

I woke up this morning to a sight so beautiful it nearly brought me to tears. Outside my window on the bus were the mountains and fields of herbs and salt just outside Ninh Thuan. I'd seen pictures of this type of scene before and had always known it would be beautiful, but I never expected it to hit me like this when I finally saw it in person. I felt a sudden surge of emotion, it was both exhilerating and peaceful. My entire body was pressed up against the window, trying to take it all in. I was enraptured. When we arrived, we were picked up by a couple of thestaff members at the Institute for Tropical Biology and we all went to breakfast at a local pho place. Their English skills ranged from limited speaking ability to nothing at all. Between that and my list of Vietnamese words squarely set at fifteen, I wasn't really part of the conversation. Van Anh translated for me but in general, I just let her talk with them and sat quietly eating.

Afterwards we drove though the city to the Institute and I had a great chance to observe the people from these little dirt roads. I did see some squalor, but in general I just observed people making a modest living in much the same way their ancestors did, farming and fishing. Everywhere around me I see the traditional image of the faceless Vietnamese farmer, bent over with a conical straw hat on. Van Anh told me of an old proverb that's a tribute to the hardest workers in Vietnam - "the farmer sells his back to the sky and his face to the ground." I know everyone is attracted to the money and development, but I think most put too much emphasis on it. I'm sure these people do have a lot to gain through development, but I wonder if they know what they have to lose. If Vietnamese loses the ancient ways entirely, it loses something very precious. Plenty of people in America have money but aren't happy, so there must be more important things. Well, perhaps Vietnam's communist ideals of equality and cooperation will keep it from becoming as cut-throat about business as America.

We reach the Institute and meet Mr. Vinh, director of this project. I have been skeptical about tis program because of our inability to get straight, consistent answers in the city so I had a lot of questions for him. Mr. Vinh, however, dispelled most of my qualms without me asking a single one. NOt only is he an exceptionally warm and generous man, but we share many of the same ideals when it comes to the environment. At one point, he took me over to a map and showed me where there had been a lot of development down by the beach and he expressed his disagreement with such construction. This conversation convinced me that he would go to great lengths to make sure the company that buys this program will uphold our goals and the system in place. After settling into our hotel, we set out on our tour of the Nui Chua National Park. The preserve has six different types of semi-arid forest, complete with langurs and pythons (neither of which we saw sadly), and a long stretch of beach that's the only place in Vietnam (to my knowledge) where sea turtles nest. There's also an indigenous tribe called the Raglay people that still live off the forest's resources (much as th Amazonian tribes do).

Our guide through the national park is Mr. Diep, who used to work for the army doing something in the forest (I didn't quite catch the details), so now he's a real outdoorsman and knows his way around the forest. Also taking our tour with us is Nhu Ngoc Tran, a a student from Central Vietnam (said to have some of the most gifted, hard-working students in the country) who's staying with the Institute's staff for part of her summer. I have to say, I truly love this girl - she's one of the most adorable, fun-loving people I've ever met. We start our tour in the short forest, full of bonsai and other short trees (surprise, surprise) growing in soil made up mostly of sand. We're surrounded by huge boulders precariously balanced on one another, as well as livestock like cows and goats. THere's one dark bull with lopsided horns who doesn't seem to like us. He always looks ready to charge, I'm not sure if that's because he's guarding the calf behind him or because Nhu's wearing red (we'd like to think it's the latter).

We walk down an incredibly steep hillside through the trees down to one of the most incredible ocean views in the world. We scramble up onto some rocks to take in the sight. The beach below us is the small nesting site for olive ridley, green, and hawksbill sea turtles, one of if not the only nesting sites in Vietnam. Van Anh translated Mr. Diep's story about a local fisherman who hunted and ate sea turtles his whole life, but near the end of his life he felt remorse and got his family and the whole community involved in protecting the turtles. Apparently, somewhere in the area there's some sort of cabinet with the inscription "who is the number one enemy of the sea?," and inside is a mirror. More of my fears about a tourism company running rampant in Ninh Thuan disappear. This is a community that is concerned about the environment and will take care of its own. By the way, Van Anh is becoming an even better friend and ally. She doesn't seem burdened by translating for me (which is quite a relief) and we're becoming closer through this profound experience we're sharing. I'm discovering it's the little details that make Ninh Thuan so beautiful. While we were sitting on the rocks, we found these pretty little stones that were once part of the shell of a moon snail and have a perfect amber spiral design on them.

On the way back, we saw a type of iguana with a brilliant royal blue head. Next to it was one with a brown head since apparently it changes color (how cool is that!). To get to the big rainforest, we hopped the local bus, which is the bumpiest, wildest ride I've been on since Space Mountain. The driver goes full speed ahead, beeping the whole way for people ahead to move, since he'll stop for no one...except for a herd of cows (one of many herds of livestock on these roads). We then used a sort of motorbike taxi service which takes us across Broken Bridge (which thankfully does'nt live up to its name) to a family-run restaurant owned by Di Hai (which means Aunt Hai). After a meal of pineapple, special fish, and fried egg, Van Anh and I interviewed her about the ecotourism situation. This is an amazing woman. She started her own business, this restaurant that feeds relatives and neighbors, along with the occassional traveler. She's very passionate about protecting her forest home. She gave up some of her own land to the government to build a trail heading up into the mountains and also pays 30,000 dong out of her pocket each week to hire the Raglay people to clean up the litter down by the stream. (By the way, that's about $2 U.S. and remember folks, the average income is Vietnam is only $2-3 a day on average.) All Di Hai wants is to help and interact with travelers and new people and to provide for the future of her family. This conversation clinched the deal for me. If Di Hai supports it, so do I. This project has all the right people involved to keep it going in the right direction after I leave. I trust them.

Afterwards, the four of us headed to the stream, climbing to the base of the waterfall. I venture a little further on my own, scrambling over and hopping in between rocks, even crossing to the other side of the stream. It was so peaceful there. Everything else in the world disappears except for the next rock in front of you; all of your senses are channeled into the sensation of running water between your fingers. When I finally rejoined the group, we took naps in hammocks next to the water. Ok, so the less glamorous part of this experience was the fact that I had a headache throughout most of it (probably from lack of sleep on the night bus). However, I've had a worse illness than that in the middle of a jungle before (oh Guatemala, good times), so I knew how to battle my way through this one and still enjoy myself thoroughly. We came back down the mountain and hopped on a glass bottom boat and set off to see the coral reef. The small harbor was a sight to see. Blue wooden fishing boats with Vietnamese flags flying were scattered throughout the water, flags flying were scattered throughout the water, accompanied by small floating baskets that are traditional fishing boats (I later saw one of these fishing for squid at night, luring the creatures to a lure by shining a flashlight in the water). The backdrop for all of this was a range of forrested mountains. Out on the water, the glass-bottom portion of the trip sadly made me and Van Anh a little sick, but fortunately I was more interested in looking around the boat. Crystal blue waves sent us on anther bumpy ride right alongside cliffaces with vegetatoin growing on them (like smaller versions of the ones in Hanoi).

Alright, here's where the magical portion of the tour takes an unpleasant turn. That night we had a dinner party on this beautiful beach at a local seafood restaurant. It was a perfect night, cool breezes, calm black waters, sand between my toes, twinkling stars above, and en eirily beautiful burnt orange moon just above the horizon. The food was delicious, strange considering it was seafood and snails, not some of my traditional favorites. The people were all so kind and happy to have us there. The problem was that only about three people at the table spoke conversatoinal English. This was my first bout of culture shock. Mr. Vinh did his best to talk to me part of the time, but it only lasted so long and I spent most of the night somewhere between confusion and boredom. I split my time between trying to look interested in a conversation I didn't understand and trying to amuse myself by looking around at the beautiful scenery withough being impolite. To add to my discomfort, I was completely stuffed from so much food (albeit wonderful food). It's always rude to deny food and everyone was so generous that they kept piling it into my bowl. So I kept eating and when I felt I'd had my fill, Mr. Vinh announced that there were four more courses coming. I made it through this night by pulling myself back from the brink numerous times with the notion that I was only freaking out becuase I was dead tired and culture shock is a real and unavoidable psychological experience. I did however find a way to be part of the party in some small way without understanding what people were saying. I find it very interesting to listen to the language itself. With so many different tones, each sentence becomes a unique song. Listening to this enchanting song, I didn't feel quite so lost in this foreign language.