When we first arrived in Saigon not so very long ago, there was a shop around the corner from the guesthouse that was completely gutted and being renovated inside and out. The progress they made was incredible – just yesterday when I walked by in the morning the store was still completely empty and by the afternoon it was a fully operational bookstore and cafe, decorated with simple flower arrangements and modern furniture. This morning, Molly, Kendra, and I went there just after their grand opening kickoff ceremony for breakfast smoothies. The drinks were really good, though Molly’s “Love Story” (a strawberry, citrus, and grenadine smoothie) was the best. The bookstore was really upscale – everyone inside was dressed to the nines (clearly upper class people, a curious sight given the exploding middle class in this area) and the smoothies cost a lot in terms of Vietnamese prices (though it’s still nothing by American terms).
At lunch, we went out for a traditional Chinese meal. Without telling any of us, Ming had called ahead and ordered an entire Peking duck, so there was plenty of food to go around. Dishes made with different parts of the duck steadily made their way out and were placed on the rotating platform (like a Lazy Susan) in front of us and we spun it around, grabbing at whatever looked good. My favorite out of the dishes was the crispy duck skin, which we wrapped in a pancake and dipped in a thick dark brown sauce that often comes with duck but which I still can’t identify.
The rest of the day was spent packing and shopping for teaching materials we’ll be using in Ben Tre. People ended up doing their own thing for dinner but Molly and I decided that we wanted pho for our last meal in Saigon for the next four weeks. We went with some of the roommates around the corner to my favorite place down 18 Alley. It was excellent as always, though I think by the end of the day they’ve run out of the good cuts of meat because the beef in our pho wasn’t nearly as lean as what they give us at breakfast. It was a good meal, except for the ten minutes I spent hacking because a beansprout went down the wrong pipe (the incident actually hurt my ego a little because all the roommates attributed my coughing to all the spice I put in the soup which definitely wasn’t too much for me – if there’s one thing I get really cocky about,it’s how much spice I can handle).
After we’d finished packing, we decided it was our last night in Saigon and we might as well live it up, so we went back to the same bookstore from this morning. It was really amusing to go there twice in one day because the manager (a smartly-dressed and very efficient woman) recognized us from this morning and said hello. Molly and I had chocolate cravings so we each got a small brownie, which ended up being very disappointing – it was pretty dry and had raisins in it for whatever reason. Things only got better from there. The manager was so pleased that we’d com back (and probably trying to curry favor so we’d continue coming) that she gave us a whole half of a chocolate mousse cake (that would have gone bad anyway since it was almost closing time) entirely for free. This satisfied my chocolate craving like no other. It was positively heavenly but it was definitely too much food for just the five of us so we started calling other people to come help us finish it. Everyone else who came ordered drinks so we were happy that at least the manager got some extra business out of the free cake she gifted us. What a great way to conclude our time Saigon.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Vietnam Day 33 (7/10/09)
I felt extremely lethargic today. I had every intention of sitting around working on my journal or the analysis for the Ninh Thuan project. I snapped right out of my lull though when someone proposed a trip to the Lunch Lady. This made three times eating there so far and I’ve never been disappointed. The broth today was a little lighter than the ones before but it was still really good, loaded with scallions and random bits of meat. I feel like I should have been coming here every day since I got to Saigon to take advantage of all the different magical soups she has.
Today was completely uneventful except for the food so the only other thing to report was our vegetarian dinner (our second in the past week, but this one was far superior to the last). We were led past a bunch of pictures of Buddha to the upstairs part of the restaurant, which we had all to ourselves. We had a number of really good dishes, primarily made of tofu pretending to be meat. The most unusual but best-tasting was the banana fish, which tasted like bananas but had the consistency and saltiness of fish. We had a low-key evening after that, falling asleep while watching Harry Potter with the project in Kendra’s room.
Today was completely uneventful except for the food so the only other thing to report was our vegetarian dinner (our second in the past week, but this one was far superior to the last). We were led past a bunch of pictures of Buddha to the upstairs part of the restaurant, which we had all to ourselves. We had a number of really good dishes, primarily made of tofu pretending to be meat. The most unusual but best-tasting was the banana fish, which tasted like bananas but had the consistency and saltiness of fish. We had a low-key evening after that, falling asleep while watching Harry Potter with the project in Kendra’s room.
Vietnam Day 32 (7/9/09)
I went to the cafe by myself this morning to write in my journal. Apparently I drink too much coffee on a regular basis, because when I ordered a mango smoothie, they though I just got the words mixed up and tried desperately to indicate that what I actually wanted was a cafe sua da. I didn’t think I was that bad about coffee – after all, I did eventually get my sinh to xoai this morning. I then met up with the Americans and (after earning some incredulous looks from the cafe people by ordering another smoothie which was actually for Kendra) we took the bus to Ben Thanh Market.
I got a slew of gifts for relatives. These gifts represent my crowning achievement in the art of bargaining. Part of my success lay in the fact that I didn’t try to use Vietnamese, because the vendors know English anyway and I’m certainly more confident using it. I did some quick calculations in my head, set my price, and refused to budge. The saleswoman kept trying to get me to go higher, but my price was completely reasonable so I kept shaking my head and repeating my price. Eventually she conceded and I bought them for a million dong ($50) less than her original asking price. I think I could have gone even lower, but she was really nice and patient in finding me all the different designs I wanted so I was content with what I paid.
After finishing up at Ben Thanh, I met Bert Covert, a well-known American primatologist working in Vietnam, and incidentally my friend Catherine Workman’s mentor from school. He was extremely nice and gave me lots of useful information about the different conservation projects going on all over Vietnam. It sounds as though I could find work in any part of Vietnam if I look hard enough.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the park with my journal. After I’d been writing for a while, a group of students from the Saigon Institute of Technology approached me and asked if I would take a survey on culture shock. Since I’ve been taking surveys for the past few weeks, I know what a trial it can be so I was more than happy to help. They were all really nice and spoke great English and were so excited that I was willing to talk with them. While they were there, a little boy had come over to me begging and the students had pushed him away. After they left, he came back and I was so tempted to give him something except somewhere in the back of my mind I figured the students had pushed him away for a reason. Then of course he made me feel like an even more horrible person by sitting down next to me, innocently watching me write. Fortunately at that moment the calvary arrived.
Alex, Van, and Alice found me and we all went for smoothies (interestingly, Alice’s trick for escaping the little boy was to invite him along, which scares away the kids here since they’re afraid of being kidnapped). I tried pomelo, which was good but Alice’s custard apple smoothie was the best. Alice is an extremely interesting person to talk to. She leaned Chinese to go grad school in China so she could study human trafficking there. Now, straight out of grad school she’s the new director of CET (pretty impressive).
For dinner, we went to a vegetarian restaurant in the backpackers district (most of the veggie places are there because so many backpackers are vegetarian). I had Indian food since that’s always the best vegetarian, but of course this restaurant didn’t specialize in Indian food so it was less than amazing. After dinner, we walked around the backpackers district for a while looking at overpriced T-shirts and mass-produced art. All along the way we were accosted by very aggressive night club employees, trying to hand us flyers advertising happy hour. These guys were incredibly forceful, some even following us to the other side of the intersection to try and get us to go to the Crazy Bull (a really touristy new dance club/bar with a huge, animated bull made from neon lights hanging over the door and standing taller than the door itself). We thought about trying one of the rooftop bars but all of the “ushers” as I call them were all too aggressive so we just went back.
I got a slew of gifts for relatives. These gifts represent my crowning achievement in the art of bargaining. Part of my success lay in the fact that I didn’t try to use Vietnamese, because the vendors know English anyway and I’m certainly more confident using it. I did some quick calculations in my head, set my price, and refused to budge. The saleswoman kept trying to get me to go higher, but my price was completely reasonable so I kept shaking my head and repeating my price. Eventually she conceded and I bought them for a million dong ($50) less than her original asking price. I think I could have gone even lower, but she was really nice and patient in finding me all the different designs I wanted so I was content with what I paid.
After finishing up at Ben Thanh, I met Bert Covert, a well-known American primatologist working in Vietnam, and incidentally my friend Catherine Workman’s mentor from school. He was extremely nice and gave me lots of useful information about the different conservation projects going on all over Vietnam. It sounds as though I could find work in any part of Vietnam if I look hard enough.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the park with my journal. After I’d been writing for a while, a group of students from the Saigon Institute of Technology approached me and asked if I would take a survey on culture shock. Since I’ve been taking surveys for the past few weeks, I know what a trial it can be so I was more than happy to help. They were all really nice and spoke great English and were so excited that I was willing to talk with them. While they were there, a little boy had come over to me begging and the students had pushed him away. After they left, he came back and I was so tempted to give him something except somewhere in the back of my mind I figured the students had pushed him away for a reason. Then of course he made me feel like an even more horrible person by sitting down next to me, innocently watching me write. Fortunately at that moment the calvary arrived.
Alex, Van, and Alice found me and we all went for smoothies (interestingly, Alice’s trick for escaping the little boy was to invite him along, which scares away the kids here since they’re afraid of being kidnapped). I tried pomelo, which was good but Alice’s custard apple smoothie was the best. Alice is an extremely interesting person to talk to. She leaned Chinese to go grad school in China so she could study human trafficking there. Now, straight out of grad school she’s the new director of CET (pretty impressive).
For dinner, we went to a vegetarian restaurant in the backpackers district (most of the veggie places are there because so many backpackers are vegetarian). I had Indian food since that’s always the best vegetarian, but of course this restaurant didn’t specialize in Indian food so it was less than amazing. After dinner, we walked around the backpackers district for a while looking at overpriced T-shirts and mass-produced art. All along the way we were accosted by very aggressive night club employees, trying to hand us flyers advertising happy hour. These guys were incredibly forceful, some even following us to the other side of the intersection to try and get us to go to the Crazy Bull (a really touristy new dance club/bar with a huge, animated bull made from neon lights hanging over the door and standing taller than the door itself). We thought about trying one of the rooftop bars but all of the “ushers” as I call them were all too aggressive so we just went back.
Vietnam Day 31 (7/8/09)
Today was my second visit to the Lunch Lady. She seemed thoroughly amused to see me and Ming again, but this time we brought new people with us. With us were some of the Vietnamese roommates who knew nothing about her even though she’s famous in the Western foodie world. She certainly lived up to her reputation of a new soup every day as this soup bore no resemblance to the one I had before except that they were both amazing. This one had Chinese broccoli and a whole leg of chicken along with a plate of papaya they gave us to throw into the broth. The broth was much lighter this time with less oil and spices, yet still quite flavorful. Every time we go, the Lunch Lady gains new fans for life and now Hieu, Van Anh, and Wen have been added to that list.
In the afternoon, we took a bus over to Chinatown to do a little shopping. The market was like Ben Thanh times eight, even louder and more cramped with more booths packed together than I would have thought possible. I could tell this was a market meant for locals because, number one we were the only foreigners there and number two there were no stands selling tchotchkes and souvenirs – they only sold cloths, cosmetics, cleaning supplies, and I even saw one that had fake plants for home decorating. There were however a hefty number of jewelry counters selling “jade” and supposedly precious metals. Downstairs was the food market with a very fishy smell, no doubt coming from the dried squid hanging above the booths and shrimp of every size piled up in large baskets on the ground.
Outside lined up along streets so tiny a car couldn’t fit (which meant that pedestrians and motorbikes were always in imminent danger of collision) were vendors with all sorts of tasty-looking fruits. At the first one, My tried to bargain but apparently everything here is fixed price. The saleswoman got so offended she wouldn’t even look at us, let alone sell to us at any price – she just stared at the ground shaking her head and motioning us to move on. At the next stall, we just accepted the price as was, which was probably not bad for such high quality (I got mangosteen of course and Kendra got a mangaya, a cross between mango and papaya).
We then moved on to the indoor plaza, a cross between a market and a mall where stalls were still clustered together but in a much nicer building with air-conditioning and escalators. The problem was that all the vendors selling the same things were all grouped together so I could never decide where to look – all of the jewelry counters melded together and all had exactly the same things, giving me a constant sense of deja vous as I walked down the aisles. The plaza wasn’t nearly as bad as the marked we’d just been to but I have the same reaction anywhere I go shopping in Saigon – I just get overwhelmed to the extent that I just want to give up and not buy anything (not necessarily a bad thing I suppose). If I do come back here to live someday I don’t know how I’m going to get the things I need.
Since we were in Chinatown anyway, we decided to try a dim sum dinner, but no one seemed to speak Chinese when Wen and Ming tried to ask vendors for recommendations (what a pathetic excuse for a Chinatown). When they finally found someone, we were told that dim sum is only served in the morning so we had to hold off until another day. We had to get back soon anyway for our weekly seminar with Rylan, so we grabbed a quick banh mi (Hanoi-style this time, which seemed to have a lot more meat than the ones we’re used to) – we proceeded to make a mess as we ate them on the bus ride back to District 1.
This meeting was our first time meeting Alice, the new CET director taking over for Rylan in less than a week. She’s a young Vietnamese-American just out of grad school and is very sweet and outgoing so it should be fun having her in Ben Tre with us. At the meeting, we went over last minute planning for Ben Tre and went over procedures for all the fun medical injuries that could possibly occur there (for which Ming is at the highest risk since he’s already injured himself numerous times in the city, poor guy). It was during this conversation we learned that going in the water can make you come out itchy and leave spots on your skin, so I guess skinny-dipping is out. Back at the guesthouse, Hieu had sweetsoup waiting for us. Kendra and I shared white milky concoction made of durian and pumpkin, an odd combination but it works wonderfully.
We then engaged in one of the favorite Vietnamese pastimes – karaoke. This karaoke room was wilder than the one I went to in Ninh Thuan – the walls were mixture of crazy colors with stone inlays in random spots to give it a little class. Fourteen of us squeezed in on a cushioned bench that stretched around the back wall. Usually my voice sounds pretty bad on the karaoke machine, but I actually sang pretty well and when I sang with Molly we got a perfect score singing Cheap Trick. It was really fun, especially since it was most of the Americans’ first time. We played a lot of really amusing songs, among hem the alphabet song, “A Whole New World” from Aladdin, and Right Said Fred’s “Too Sexy” (appropriately sung by Hieu and Van, hehe). Shockingly, the lyrics to al the English songs were actually correct (contrary to my last experience), though they seemed particularly hilarious on a background of random nature videos and scenes of flamenco dancers that appeared on the same screen with the lyrics.
In the afternoon, we took a bus over to Chinatown to do a little shopping. The market was like Ben Thanh times eight, even louder and more cramped with more booths packed together than I would have thought possible. I could tell this was a market meant for locals because, number one we were the only foreigners there and number two there were no stands selling tchotchkes and souvenirs – they only sold cloths, cosmetics, cleaning supplies, and I even saw one that had fake plants for home decorating. There were however a hefty number of jewelry counters selling “jade” and supposedly precious metals. Downstairs was the food market with a very fishy smell, no doubt coming from the dried squid hanging above the booths and shrimp of every size piled up in large baskets on the ground.
Outside lined up along streets so tiny a car couldn’t fit (which meant that pedestrians and motorbikes were always in imminent danger of collision) were vendors with all sorts of tasty-looking fruits. At the first one, My tried to bargain but apparently everything here is fixed price. The saleswoman got so offended she wouldn’t even look at us, let alone sell to us at any price – she just stared at the ground shaking her head and motioning us to move on. At the next stall, we just accepted the price as was, which was probably not bad for such high quality (I got mangosteen of course and Kendra got a mangaya, a cross between mango and papaya).
We then moved on to the indoor plaza, a cross between a market and a mall where stalls were still clustered together but in a much nicer building with air-conditioning and escalators. The problem was that all the vendors selling the same things were all grouped together so I could never decide where to look – all of the jewelry counters melded together and all had exactly the same things, giving me a constant sense of deja vous as I walked down the aisles. The plaza wasn’t nearly as bad as the marked we’d just been to but I have the same reaction anywhere I go shopping in Saigon – I just get overwhelmed to the extent that I just want to give up and not buy anything (not necessarily a bad thing I suppose). If I do come back here to live someday I don’t know how I’m going to get the things I need.
Since we were in Chinatown anyway, we decided to try a dim sum dinner, but no one seemed to speak Chinese when Wen and Ming tried to ask vendors for recommendations (what a pathetic excuse for a Chinatown). When they finally found someone, we were told that dim sum is only served in the morning so we had to hold off until another day. We had to get back soon anyway for our weekly seminar with Rylan, so we grabbed a quick banh mi (Hanoi-style this time, which seemed to have a lot more meat than the ones we’re used to) – we proceeded to make a mess as we ate them on the bus ride back to District 1.
This meeting was our first time meeting Alice, the new CET director taking over for Rylan in less than a week. She’s a young Vietnamese-American just out of grad school and is very sweet and outgoing so it should be fun having her in Ben Tre with us. At the meeting, we went over last minute planning for Ben Tre and went over procedures for all the fun medical injuries that could possibly occur there (for which Ming is at the highest risk since he’s already injured himself numerous times in the city, poor guy). It was during this conversation we learned that going in the water can make you come out itchy and leave spots on your skin, so I guess skinny-dipping is out. Back at the guesthouse, Hieu had sweetsoup waiting for us. Kendra and I shared white milky concoction made of durian and pumpkin, an odd combination but it works wonderfully.
We then engaged in one of the favorite Vietnamese pastimes – karaoke. This karaoke room was wilder than the one I went to in Ninh Thuan – the walls were mixture of crazy colors with stone inlays in random spots to give it a little class. Fourteen of us squeezed in on a cushioned bench that stretched around the back wall. Usually my voice sounds pretty bad on the karaoke machine, but I actually sang pretty well and when I sang with Molly we got a perfect score singing Cheap Trick. It was really fun, especially since it was most of the Americans’ first time. We played a lot of really amusing songs, among hem the alphabet song, “A Whole New World” from Aladdin, and Right Said Fred’s “Too Sexy” (appropriately sung by Hieu and Van, hehe). Shockingly, the lyrics to al the English songs were actually correct (contrary to my last experience), though they seemed particularly hilarious on a background of random nature videos and scenes of flamenco dancers that appeared on the same screen with the lyrics.
Vietnam Day 30 (7/7/09)
This morning I set out on my own to try to visit the Notre Dame Cathedral by myself. Of course I failed to realize this church has hours of operation – it still baffles me when any place of worship is closed at any time of day (say, 1:00 in the afternoon). I now had an hour to kill before meeting the whole group to go to the War Museum, so I took a seat on a park bench and wrote in my journal. The park was so peaceful (even despite the nearby traffic) with small groups of people and couples scattered across the lawn and paths, talking and drinking coffee.
We were meeting Rylan in front of the Reunification Palace and, since I was already in the nearby park, I got there first. When I found him, Rylan was talking to a couple of people, one of whom looked strangely familiar. It was Michael Catalino who I’d taken a class with at Duke last year. He’d graduated already, but by some freak coincidence we’re both now working on nearby projects in the Mekong Delta at the same time and his guide just so happens to be a friend of Rylan’s (as well as one of the people we’re consulting about the toilet project). I thought randomly seeing Nhu Ngoc Tran (the girl from Ninh Thuanh) in Dalat was weird, but this was freaking me out on a whole other level. The chances that I would bump into an acquaintance from the States while in Vietnam are astronomical, but I went with it – it’s always nice to see people you know, especially in a new city where there aren’t too many of those.
When everyone else arrived, we walked over to the War Museum. It was an appropriately cold stone structure with U.S. military planes, tanks, and artillery on display outside. Once inside, I realized why it used to be called the War Atrocities Museum – all of the photographs and artifacts there were commemorating different genocides that occurred during the war. There were small sculptures and children’s drawings depicting both war and hopes for world peace that were very moving. The rest of the museum, however, was nothing but photograph after photograph mashed together with a few samples of American artillery thrown in for effect. I’m sure all this was intended to make Americans feel a little guilty and show the world how terrible war is, but I don’t think it entirely succeeded. The My Lai Massacre section was poignant for me, because it sent me back to the day we visited Son My, but (as terrible as this sounds) the rest of the exhibits didn’t affect me nearly as much as I thought they should. There were so many photos packed together in such a disorganized fashion that I became desensitized to them. Additionally, the dramatic captions about the evil deeds of the Americans were so over-the-top that it just made everything seem less real, even though I know these terrifying things happened. Leaving, I wasn’t nearly as moved or affected as I had been at Son My, though I did feel a significant amount of guilt for not being more emotional after seeing images of so many people in pain.
After a quick banh mi dinner, it was time to plan for Ben Tre. During our afternoons there we’ll be teaching classes of young local children. We split up into different subjects, Van Anh and I taking on science with Wen and Khang. I think we might have inadvertently chosen the most difficult topic – we managed to come up with a lot of good ideas for science experiments we could do with the kids (3rd grade to 7th graders), but I’m afraid some of them might be hard to pull off with such limited resources. Nonetheless, we’ll just have to make it work somehow so we made a list of supplies and we’ll see what we can do.
We were meeting Rylan in front of the Reunification Palace and, since I was already in the nearby park, I got there first. When I found him, Rylan was talking to a couple of people, one of whom looked strangely familiar. It was Michael Catalino who I’d taken a class with at Duke last year. He’d graduated already, but by some freak coincidence we’re both now working on nearby projects in the Mekong Delta at the same time and his guide just so happens to be a friend of Rylan’s (as well as one of the people we’re consulting about the toilet project). I thought randomly seeing Nhu Ngoc Tran (the girl from Ninh Thuanh) in Dalat was weird, but this was freaking me out on a whole other level. The chances that I would bump into an acquaintance from the States while in Vietnam are astronomical, but I went with it – it’s always nice to see people you know, especially in a new city where there aren’t too many of those.
When everyone else arrived, we walked over to the War Museum. It was an appropriately cold stone structure with U.S. military planes, tanks, and artillery on display outside. Once inside, I realized why it used to be called the War Atrocities Museum – all of the photographs and artifacts there were commemorating different genocides that occurred during the war. There were small sculptures and children’s drawings depicting both war and hopes for world peace that were very moving. The rest of the museum, however, was nothing but photograph after photograph mashed together with a few samples of American artillery thrown in for effect. I’m sure all this was intended to make Americans feel a little guilty and show the world how terrible war is, but I don’t think it entirely succeeded. The My Lai Massacre section was poignant for me, because it sent me back to the day we visited Son My, but (as terrible as this sounds) the rest of the exhibits didn’t affect me nearly as much as I thought they should. There were so many photos packed together in such a disorganized fashion that I became desensitized to them. Additionally, the dramatic captions about the evil deeds of the Americans were so over-the-top that it just made everything seem less real, even though I know these terrifying things happened. Leaving, I wasn’t nearly as moved or affected as I had been at Son My, though I did feel a significant amount of guilt for not being more emotional after seeing images of so many people in pain.
After a quick banh mi dinner, it was time to plan for Ben Tre. During our afternoons there we’ll be teaching classes of young local children. We split up into different subjects, Van Anh and I taking on science with Wen and Khang. I think we might have inadvertently chosen the most difficult topic – we managed to come up with a lot of good ideas for science experiments we could do with the kids (3rd grade to 7th graders), but I’m afraid some of them might be hard to pull off with such limited resources. Nonetheless, we’ll just have to make it work somehow so we made a list of supplies and we’ll see what we can do.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Vietnam Day 29 (7/6/09)
Well, we’re reaching the end of the road in terms of our internships and to be perfectly honest, I feel like something of a failure. Mr. Vinh originally asked for one hundred surveys and we’re sending back only a little over half that request. I know there are plenty of reasonable excuses for why we couldn’t finish by the deadline – I’ve been away every weekend since I got here, the hotels wouldn’t let us survey their guests, etc – but none of them make me feel any better about the end result. I still feel like I let down Mr. Vinh and everyone in Ninh Thuan committed to this project. Yet, the fact remains we’re out of time. I’m going to try to do a little more analysis and hopefully the information we collected will be of help in some small way.
After all this time in Saigon, I finally made it to the Lunch Lady today. The Lunch Lady is a street vendor who has somehow managed to stay local while becoming world famous for producing a different amazing soup each day. As you walk up to her stand, the Lunch Lady greets everyone with an incredibly warm smile from underneath her conical hat. Our Vietnamese is sufficient here since all you do to order is tell her the number of bowls and she ladles them out of a large vat, steaming in a metal pot next to her. The soup was outstanding, swimming with thick slippery noodles, slices of beef, fishballs (balls made of fish, not the other thing), and random herbs (and quite possibly other ingredients that I just missed). The broth was rich with oils and spices, but not too heavy – it was so perfect I didn’t even want to put hot sauce in it for fear that I might alter the essence of the soup. I normally have trouble finishing entire bowls of soup, but I could see the bottom of this bowl.
Since we were already so close to the river, we crossed the bridge and just spent some time walking around a part of town we’d never been to. We walked down a side street so narrow it might have been considered an alley but for its length. It wasn’t the slums, but it was definitely a lower class neighborhood than the ones I’ve seen in the city so far. Stores, beauty parlors, and small eateries lined the street beneath the homes on the floors above. Fruit vendors squatted on the sidewalk, at times forcing us onto the dangerously small road with motorbikes whizzing past. Eventually we came to a small bridge set next to a set of homes made primarily from tin, elevated above the water. At least I’m assuming there was water but I couldn’t actually see it to confirm. There was garbage covering every inch of the water’s surface – plastic bags and styrofoam containers full of rotting food completely consumed the putrid river (no wonder no one can drink the water here). We’d been told about the pollution and trash dumping before, but seeing it to this extent was shocking. It frustrated me to think how hard it would be to clean this mess up, not to mention trying to prevent further pollution here. The people in these rundown homes on the water have no way of getting rid of their trash besides tossing it out the back door – it’s not their fault that the government has insufficient trash collection (and almost non-existent recycling collection). Now this was a decent dose of culture shock.
Later in the afternoon, I engaged in another quality cultural outing. We visited a mosque, which was not a highly decorated touristy one like we’d expected when we saw it in the guidebook, but an average place of worship for the surrounding Muslim community. We took off our shoes and walked up onto a little patio, which is apparently where the women pray while the men enter the slightly closed off room in the middle, where they can kneel before Allah on numerous oriental rugs all overlapping one another. As Molly, Alex, Kendra, and I sat in the female section, a woman dressed in the full traditional muslin outfit (made up of a long black dress and an attached head covering) waved at me from the small room where she was working. She then got up and came to join us on the floor. We sat there for some time trying to communicate through the language barrier. I think all parties involved got something out of it even without understanding everything (she did speak a little English and even without it she taught us the proper Muslim way to pray). Sitting with this woman was quite an experience, but at some point we started running out of things we could reasonably communicate through Charades. We gathered up our shoes and left the green mosque to go to dinner.
For dinner, we treated our Vietnamese roommates to the closest thing to an “American” meal we could think of – burgers and fries at a restaurant called Blackcat. It’s a pretty upscale restaurant with nice décor and random Western music, though we barely fit in the space reserved for us. The menu was really amusing, each burger had a cutesy name related to cats (and two of the smoothies were named the Johnny Depp and the Halle Berry). I for instance got the “bobcat” with barbecue sauce and bacon served on an English muffin of all things (not a bad combination actually). Wen and Ming split a huge burger bigger than my face, so thick that they had to stretch their jaws to what looked like an uncomfortable degree just to eat it. My favorite part of the meal was the drink Kendra and I split that satisfied all of our cravings – it was a chocolate, banana, and peanut butter shake (both of our usual Cookout orders as it turns out) that was to die for. There were mixed reviews from the roommates about the burgers. Some liked it, others flat-out told us they really didn’t like it. Van Anh’s only comment was that the food was really heavy and filling (which makes sense because a burger has so much more meat than most Vietnamese food). I hope she liked it, but either way Blackcat was an interesting experience for all of us.
After all this time in Saigon, I finally made it to the Lunch Lady today. The Lunch Lady is a street vendor who has somehow managed to stay local while becoming world famous for producing a different amazing soup each day. As you walk up to her stand, the Lunch Lady greets everyone with an incredibly warm smile from underneath her conical hat. Our Vietnamese is sufficient here since all you do to order is tell her the number of bowls and she ladles them out of a large vat, steaming in a metal pot next to her. The soup was outstanding, swimming with thick slippery noodles, slices of beef, fishballs (balls made of fish, not the other thing), and random herbs (and quite possibly other ingredients that I just missed). The broth was rich with oils and spices, but not too heavy – it was so perfect I didn’t even want to put hot sauce in it for fear that I might alter the essence of the soup. I normally have trouble finishing entire bowls of soup, but I could see the bottom of this bowl.
Since we were already so close to the river, we crossed the bridge and just spent some time walking around a part of town we’d never been to. We walked down a side street so narrow it might have been considered an alley but for its length. It wasn’t the slums, but it was definitely a lower class neighborhood than the ones I’ve seen in the city so far. Stores, beauty parlors, and small eateries lined the street beneath the homes on the floors above. Fruit vendors squatted on the sidewalk, at times forcing us onto the dangerously small road with motorbikes whizzing past. Eventually we came to a small bridge set next to a set of homes made primarily from tin, elevated above the water. At least I’m assuming there was water but I couldn’t actually see it to confirm. There was garbage covering every inch of the water’s surface – plastic bags and styrofoam containers full of rotting food completely consumed the putrid river (no wonder no one can drink the water here). We’d been told about the pollution and trash dumping before, but seeing it to this extent was shocking. It frustrated me to think how hard it would be to clean this mess up, not to mention trying to prevent further pollution here. The people in these rundown homes on the water have no way of getting rid of their trash besides tossing it out the back door – it’s not their fault that the government has insufficient trash collection (and almost non-existent recycling collection). Now this was a decent dose of culture shock.
Later in the afternoon, I engaged in another quality cultural outing. We visited a mosque, which was not a highly decorated touristy one like we’d expected when we saw it in the guidebook, but an average place of worship for the surrounding Muslim community. We took off our shoes and walked up onto a little patio, which is apparently where the women pray while the men enter the slightly closed off room in the middle, where they can kneel before Allah on numerous oriental rugs all overlapping one another. As Molly, Alex, Kendra, and I sat in the female section, a woman dressed in the full traditional muslin outfit (made up of a long black dress and an attached head covering) waved at me from the small room where she was working. She then got up and came to join us on the floor. We sat there for some time trying to communicate through the language barrier. I think all parties involved got something out of it even without understanding everything (she did speak a little English and even without it she taught us the proper Muslim way to pray). Sitting with this woman was quite an experience, but at some point we started running out of things we could reasonably communicate through Charades. We gathered up our shoes and left the green mosque to go to dinner.
For dinner, we treated our Vietnamese roommates to the closest thing to an “American” meal we could think of – burgers and fries at a restaurant called Blackcat. It’s a pretty upscale restaurant with nice décor and random Western music, though we barely fit in the space reserved for us. The menu was really amusing, each burger had a cutesy name related to cats (and two of the smoothies were named the Johnny Depp and the Halle Berry). I for instance got the “bobcat” with barbecue sauce and bacon served on an English muffin of all things (not a bad combination actually). Wen and Ming split a huge burger bigger than my face, so thick that they had to stretch their jaws to what looked like an uncomfortable degree just to eat it. My favorite part of the meal was the drink Kendra and I split that satisfied all of our cravings – it was a chocolate, banana, and peanut butter shake (both of our usual Cookout orders as it turns out) that was to die for. There were mixed reviews from the roommates about the burgers. Some liked it, others flat-out told us they really didn’t like it. Van Anh’s only comment was that the food was really heavy and filling (which makes sense because a burger has so much more meat than most Vietnamese food). I hope she liked it, but either way Blackcat was an interesting experience for all of us.
Vietnam Day 28 (7/5/09)
In the morning, we hopped aboard a river boat. The boat was designed for tourists with colorful dragons on the bow. We were sitting on chairs on a patio-like platform enclosed by windows on all sides. Frankly it didn’t feel like a boat ride at all without wind and seaspray, but it was a nice way to see the river. We passed many traditional wooden fishing boats, as well as many other tourist boats with the same dragons and closed off interiors. On one of the fishing boats, we saw an entire family from grandmother to two-year old taking turns bathing on the deck by dumping buckets of river water over their heads. On the bank, we passed a number of couples having picnics in the park, some too busy kissing to notice us pass. We soon found that the boat tour was a very organized business. It was a family run boat (with a wedding photo of the owners displayed on the back wall), so each family member took turns showing us souvenirs and driving the boat. The patriarch was sure to take the wheel when we came to a checkpoint, a police boat where every vessel had to stop and provide evidence of ownership and a boating license.
Our destination was the Celestial Lady Pagoda, one of the most famous in Vietnam. The first thing you see when you walk up is the large traditional tower, which is only opened a few times a year for special occasions. Around it was a brick courtyard with small elevated stone gazebos containing bells and artistic stone engravings. My favorite was a prayer carved on a stone slab that sat atop a large turtle. The whole pagoda was light and welcoming and would probably have been peaceful were it not for the overwhelming number of tourists (one large group wearing baseball caps with the Vietnamese flag on them) taking pictures in front of everything imaginable. I did find a little peace off to the edge of the courtyard where I found a magnificent view of the Perfume River. Once again, I found myself wondering how the monks who live here cope with all the tourists that come through.
There is a large monastery at this pagoda, including many child monks (both boys and girls) who were either orphaned, sent here by there parents for their education, or came by choice to study Buddhism. We saw a group of children (with distinctive hairstyles in which the whole head is shaved except for a patch in front which is swept off to the side) facing the wall in a long room exposed to the packs of tourists looking in. They were doing a patience exercise in which they were supposed to look at the wall or read and tune out distraction. Most of them were doing very poorly, turning around to talk to each other and play games. I felt bad looking in too long and even worse when people took pictures as if these kids were in a zoo. The older monks didn’t seem as concerned – after all, the more distraction the more meaningful the exercise is. The pagoda was very beautiful but it was also overcrowded and Hue is stifling hot (the locals had almost as much sweat dripping down their faces as I did), so we couldn’t stay all that long.
Back at the hotel, I packed up, took one last look over the high city buildings in the distance contrasted against the tin-roofed houses below me, and waved goodbye to the woman watering her plants on the rooftop garden nextdoor to the hotel. After a little trouble at airport security (Phat’s shampoo was confiscated, which isn’t a big deal but for a while we didn’t know where they had taken him), we boarded the flight back to our home away from home in Saigon. The flight was pretty short but pretty horrible. You know how a certain musical pitch can shatter glass? Well, a specific altitude on a plane can do the same to my eardrums. For almost an hour, I sat furiously chewing gum and faking yawns, trying desperately to equalize my ears which were collapsing under the pressure. I never did quite get them to pop my ears certainly felt better once we’d landed. It was nearly eleven p.m. by the time we reached the guesthouse but no one had eaten dinner yet, so we decided to relive one of our first moments in Vietnam and go back to the place where we had our first pho the night of our arrival. It was still wonderful, but a completely different experience since now I was able to compare it to all the other pho I’ve eaten since that first time – the noodles are smaller and softer (much less firm that the 18 Alley pho) and the broth more oily (which can be excellent for enhancing all the hot sauce I dump in). I was expecting deja vous but instead added another layer of complexity to my perception of pho.
Our destination was the Celestial Lady Pagoda, one of the most famous in Vietnam. The first thing you see when you walk up is the large traditional tower, which is only opened a few times a year for special occasions. Around it was a brick courtyard with small elevated stone gazebos containing bells and artistic stone engravings. My favorite was a prayer carved on a stone slab that sat atop a large turtle. The whole pagoda was light and welcoming and would probably have been peaceful were it not for the overwhelming number of tourists (one large group wearing baseball caps with the Vietnamese flag on them) taking pictures in front of everything imaginable. I did find a little peace off to the edge of the courtyard where I found a magnificent view of the Perfume River. Once again, I found myself wondering how the monks who live here cope with all the tourists that come through.
There is a large monastery at this pagoda, including many child monks (both boys and girls) who were either orphaned, sent here by there parents for their education, or came by choice to study Buddhism. We saw a group of children (with distinctive hairstyles in which the whole head is shaved except for a patch in front which is swept off to the side) facing the wall in a long room exposed to the packs of tourists looking in. They were doing a patience exercise in which they were supposed to look at the wall or read and tune out distraction. Most of them were doing very poorly, turning around to talk to each other and play games. I felt bad looking in too long and even worse when people took pictures as if these kids were in a zoo. The older monks didn’t seem as concerned – after all, the more distraction the more meaningful the exercise is. The pagoda was very beautiful but it was also overcrowded and Hue is stifling hot (the locals had almost as much sweat dripping down their faces as I did), so we couldn’t stay all that long.
Back at the hotel, I packed up, took one last look over the high city buildings in the distance contrasted against the tin-roofed houses below me, and waved goodbye to the woman watering her plants on the rooftop garden nextdoor to the hotel. After a little trouble at airport security (Phat’s shampoo was confiscated, which isn’t a big deal but for a while we didn’t know where they had taken him), we boarded the flight back to our home away from home in Saigon. The flight was pretty short but pretty horrible. You know how a certain musical pitch can shatter glass? Well, a specific altitude on a plane can do the same to my eardrums. For almost an hour, I sat furiously chewing gum and faking yawns, trying desperately to equalize my ears which were collapsing under the pressure. I never did quite get them to pop my ears certainly felt better once we’d landed. It was nearly eleven p.m. by the time we reached the guesthouse but no one had eaten dinner yet, so we decided to relive one of our first moments in Vietnam and go back to the place where we had our first pho the night of our arrival. It was still wonderful, but a completely different experience since now I was able to compare it to all the other pho I’ve eaten since that first time – the noodles are smaller and softer (much less firm that the 18 Alley pho) and the broth more oily (which can be excellent for enhancing all the hot sauce I dump in). I was expecting deja vous but instead added another layer of complexity to my perception of pho.
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