Vietnam Day 20 (6/27/09)

This morning the troops from Saigon were filing in – my troops that is. The Dukies and Vietnamese roommates were traveling to Cu Chi today and picked me up to go to the Cu Chi Tunnels with them (after getting lost for half an hour on the way here of course). Cu Chi was a hotbed for Vietnamese guerrillas during the Vietnamese-American War. Both guerrillas and villagers hid in elaborate underground tunnel systems and held out against U.S. military forces. We walked past huge craters (now overgrown with vegetation) made by American B52s. It was very moving and disturbing to think about all of the pain that had been experienced here on both sides of the conflict.

When we walked along a little further however, I realized we’d fallen into a tourist trap. In front of us were wax life-sized figures of Vietnamese soldiers dressed in camo. Here the tour guide paused so people could take pictures with the models. Some of our roommates did (which only seems natural since that’s what the figures were there for), but most of the Americans (myself included) decided against it. I feel like it would have been somewhat irreverent for us to do so while standing on ground where so many had died, especially in a conflict that the United States is consistently blamed for. We were then taken to watch a video about the history of the tunnels, but it turned out to be a propaganda tape. It glorified the Cu Chi guerrillas and demonized Americans, which makes perfect sense in this setting – I just wish the narrator hadn’t said “kill Americans” quite so many times (it was just a tad uncomfortable).

We then moved on to the tunnels themselves, walking down dirt steps into the narrow underground passageways. One might say they were too narrow, since even I had to squeeze at times and I’m much smaller than some of the people in our group (I do believe Wen almost got stuck). The next tunnels were even smaller and we had to move through them in a squatting position, our shoulders brushing the walls the whole way. The coolest part about it for me was the presence of lots of little bats (presumably vampire bats) in the tunnels with us. They buzzed past our heads and I even found a little room off to the side where I got to observe them hanging from the ceiling. No one was quite as enthused as I was but then, as Kendra pointed out, I was the only one who’d gotten a rabies vaccination.

After emerging from the last tunnel, we passed by the giftshop full of tchotchkes (like mustard yellow bobble-head dogs), none of which had anything to do with the Cu Chi Tunnels. It suddenly hit me just how touristy the whole thing had been. The tunnels were more like rides at Disney World and with all of the bats and forest around us, I’d personally been treating the experience more like a nature hike. When going through the tunnels, I wasn’t thinking about the tragedy of war or what a hard life this must have been for the Cu Chi people living underground under constant threat of bombings. I’d been sucked in like a gullible tourist and forgotten why I’d come there. I was ashamed of myself for not being mindful of my surroundings and getting as much out of the experience as I could have.

After the tunnels, the group went for a tour of the rescue center where I’m working. AS much as I love watching animals, I also enjoy observing people as they watch animals – I’m always curious to see if anyone’s as interested or inspired as I am when I’m in a place like this (though I do set the bar pretty high there). I was happy to see that people were indeed excited and having fun (especially with the otters, who are always a big hit). After they left however, I felt like there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. The keepers seemed to have a well-honed routine and at times I felt like I was just holding them up. Still, I did what I could and I felt most useful when I was giving tours. I was the only person there at the time besides Matt who spoke enough English to give the tours and he was busy so I ended up taking a few groups around the center. The tours ended up being very successful and I was able to remember a lot for having been there such a short time. So at least I know I contributed something.

That evening, after everyone had kicked off, I stayed at the center to take pictures of the animals. Just before leaving, the keepers had let the leopard out into the enclosure. She darted out so fast I couldn’t even get a picture, grabbing her enrichment, which were huge slabs of meat. She completely demolished every bit of it (including the bone) and then lounged around, calmly watching me with her milky blue eyes. Unfortunately, my little photo shoot had convinced the security guard to do the same with his camera phone. The leopard didn’t like him at all and kept trying to attack him through the fence. At one point he grabbed a large stick to bait her, but I put a stop to that before he had a chance. All I wanted was for him to go away and leave me and the animals in peace together.

Back in my room, I made a late night snack of the bananas and mangosteen I’d bought in the market. I threw a peel into the trashcan in the room only to discover that there was some kind of sugar ant hideout underneath. As soon as the trashcan moved, they swarmed out. They spread to every part of the room (including my bed since they’re small enough to get through the mosquito netting). It was absolutely disgusting - I couldn’t take a step without discovering a new batch of them. Each step also landed me in a puddle of rain water. At first I thought the rain was just blowing through the window but I found an additional source in the leaky ceiling – more specifically the section of ceiling directly over my bed. The trail of water dripping from the ceiling progressed further and further along the width of my bed, finally moving me to erect a make-shift tent by stretching an extra sheet across the poles that held up the mosquito net. This countermeasure worked to some extent, but enough water soaked through that sheet barrier to make the night very uncomfortable. I ended up crouched in a corner, one of the few dry spots of mattress left, trying to get whatever sleep I could over the deafening sound of wind and rain. All part of living in the tropics I suppose.