Vietnam – A World of Media

Journal April 16, 2010

I haven’t written any of my thoughts down in a few days. I have only been recording my thoughts into a voice recorder and am trying out a new technique. I am hoping that it will save me some of the time that I have been spending on these journals lately. It’s quite cumbersome to not only journal everyday. But to add configuring a website, editing photos, proofreading, and all the rest – it’s a lot to do.

As promised, I have studied the barrage of honking and I think I have come up with a small semblance of the communication that the horns ring out. Firstly, there is a “shave-and-a-haircut” jingle that drivers use as they are approaching an intersection so as to let others know that they are coming. The ones who are approaching the intersection and are not intending to stop at all simply lay into the horn full blast from about 10 meters before the crossroad to about five meters after. There are several short blasts for bikers that are approaching pedestrians who are walking slightly in the road. The best I can figure, this evolved out of an idea that the more beeps on hears from behind, the more likely they will be able to position the moving object by it’s blasts — sort of a sonar that you can readily create imagery for in your head. There are many “SOS” type blasts (more like toots, really) that are in short and long succession which can generally be tied to drivers delivering packages and who are more likely to be swerving in and out of shops looking for their package’s destination. And finally, I have noticed that larger vehicles such as buses and cars really just love to massage their horns whenever possible. There could literally be no one around and they will just honk to ensure that it’s still working. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with adding to the noise pollution even when on deserted streets just so that the people sleeping in the apartments above don’t get too used to silence for too long.

At any rate, I am in Hanoi at the moment. I have mostly been spending my time traveling a short distance on buses and then running around into the communities by day. I did get to see the war museums and memorials. It was really staggering to find out what we Americans did to these people. But I wasn’t there, so I have no context as to why we might have been so terribly violent. I am sure it was a different time and we understood much less about the way things work in different parts of the world. I, myself, am living through a tumultuous time that my children (if I ever have any) and their generation may well have a hard time understanding just how blind we were back at the turn of the century when America started off the next hundred years with a horrible president and an even worse war – a war without an understandable cause or a foreseeable end. But these are just a few of the emotions that overcome me when I see things that I am seeing here in remembrance of the way we were. But, then again, that’s what I came here to see. So I suppose I am getting what I asked for.

The main difference between Hanoi and Saigon, as far as I can tell, is that the percentage of people selling all manner of things — including themselves — is buffered a little bit by an overall effort of respect. “No” actually means no here, where in Ho Chi Minh “no” meant maybe, or, perhaps, I might be swayed.

Moving around on buses makes a lot of sense for a country that is thin and long. Perhaps if Chile ever becomes anything more than a desert with mountains, they might employ the same tactic at attracting tourists to that region of the world.

Hanoi is my favorite place in Vietnam so far. You are still hassled a little bit on the streets to buy things from people, but at least you’re not chased down the road by prostitutes trying to haggle you down on the price of some “yum-yum.”

The streets are narrow and dirty. The scents range from a whacking of the fecund to a wafting of the delectable. And the people are either buzzing through or sitting, selling and smoking. Even though the personal bubble gets smaller and smaller the farther north you go in Vietnam, there always seems to be just enough room for you to squeeze by without completely affronting the other person. They are most genius when it comes to space management. It seems that when you have lived in a culture of narrow walls and high population, you start to see things in terms of how much stuff you can put in them.

I also like the idea that there is really no class system here. There are rich people, yes. But everyone else pretty much does the same thing and therefore falls under the same umbrella of monetary dispersal. They are all vendors or managers or students or drivers or laborers or a small variety of other things. This sort of makes for a generally open population of person-to-person communication. People are not afraid of what others will think here, as they do in other places like Thailand, because everyone lives in the same place, with the same lifestyle, eating the same food and buying all their necessities from the same places.

Really, I can only think of three classes: the uber-rich, the uber-poor and everyone else. Those that can afford to give to beggars, normally do. Those who are not able to do so make that known in a way that is comfortable per the community — they shout at the person and wave their hands wildly for invading their time and space. And since big hand gestures and over-exaggerated expression of emotion is something that has been looked down upon in most Asian cultures, it is clear when someone is upset here.

I have appreciated the economic situation personally because things are much more reasonably priced here. There is still a lot of underhanded swindling that goes on with westerners — mostly because they believe that we simply don’t know any better than to pay their inflated prices. But it is still a different kind of swindling that goes on in Cambodia. I spent a lot of money seeing the sights in Cambodia. And so far I have spent more money in travel with one big, added benefit: I can book overnight buses and sleep on the way to my destination. This not only saves me money in hotel stays, it also averages in to be what the transport alone would cost me in just getting around. Therefore, food is my only contingency.

But to cover the issue of swindling and underhanded business here; There seems to just be this (at least publicly) unspoken agreement that exists between merchants, hotels and the shady tourist companies that tote around their guests and clients. It’s really a bad situation. It’s also very short-sighted, as one fellow traveler pointed out to me. They really just dig in for the big scam not minding that they are found out about halfway through the ordeal — they really don’t consider the idea that these travelers are part of a greater circuit of travelers who attend to blogs and travel forums where these scams will be listed and bitched about, thereby likely prompting less tourism in the long run. But I hate to jest in this way, it is quite a shame that there is such a culture of backstabbing and money-grubbing of westerners. I would imagine that it gets a little old for the local shop, restaurant and hotel owners who are being screamed at by legitimately pissed off tourists after having realized that their overpriced and over-promised “luxury” or “VIP” ticket to whatever they expected to enjoy, turned out rather to be a hustle of shark-like intensity from their first step on the bus.

But on to the food: Now that’s the good part about being in Vietnam. Not only are there many different national favorites and flavors to choose from, but they are almost always very bold and well-cooked. Unlike Cambodia, Vietnamese food is a little less adventurous. Because of their longevity as an impoverished nation, they have resorted to inputting a lot of odd additions to their meals. From insects to amphibious life, the Cambodian menu is something to be careful and picky about. Vietnam’s sharp contrast in digestible delicacies include variations of noodle soups, chicken and pork dishes and a plethora of seafood selections.

From here, I hope to be traveling to Sapa tonight via overnight train into the mountains. This will be my most coveted photo-opportunity in Vietnam. I hope to get into the hill tribe villages and come away with a glimpse into the lives of the people of this area. They have an amazing history.

There are several tribes. Many of them are small, but some of them span all the way into the provinces in Myanmar, Laos and even south into the northern parts of Thailand. The Dzao are one of these tribes with numbers estimated around 480,000 people. Most of these cultures are women-centered and have a very different viewpoint on how life should happen. For instance, the women are expected to propose to the men; the women are the ones who inherit the wealth when the family or husband passes; and the men normally take on the woman’s family name after moving into the woman’s house following marriage.

The Ede tribe is a polytheistic, communal society who live on long boat-shaped houses set on stilts. Entire families will live in these constructions and there is normally an area sectioned off for newly weds.

The H’Mong tribe, who I am hoping to see most of all, has several sects divided by the colors of dress that the women weave. Almost all of the sects wear beads and 70’s-style sequins buttons. There are black, white, red green and flower sects and all named accordingly. The Black H’Mong wear a distinguishing cylindrical hat decorated with weavings of various colors of beads.

It will be a pleasure simply to be around these people, but hopefully I can also take away and share a perspective of their seemingly undying lifestyle.

The train station at Sapa is about five minutes from the Chinese border. The next stop on this famous train is Kunming in the southern mountains of China. Kunming happens to be the place of residence of a fellow adventurer in whose work in philanthropic and historic adventures I have found a recent interest in studying and following. Jin Fe Bao, a Chinese renaissance man, has recently finished trekking the length of the Vietnamese railroad. His story and photos can be found here: http://www.jinfeibao8844.com/Railroad%20Trek.htm and another of his exploits includes having trekked 80 days across the arid trade lanes of the Sahara Desert in Africa. Information on that journey can be found here: http://jinfeibao8844.com/Africa_Adventure.htm.

From sapa, I will return to Hanoi and, barring any delays in attaining my visa for Laos, I will be headed on another overnight sleeper bus to Vientienne — the Lao capitol. From there, I will… well, you will just have to read the next journal to find out.

I will go back into these last few and likely the following journal and update them with photos after I have had a chance to sift through of the mountain of shots I took recently and edit them down into good pieces for these articles. But I figured I would at least publish this one tonight after having worked on it. So enjoy and I will let you know when they are loaded up!

Till then, all my best.

Journal April 11, 2010

Market Trash — Trash lines the streets everywhere in Cambodia -- all the way up to the Vietnam border

Since the late 1400’s, Cambodia has had quite a bad taste for the Thai people. That’s about when they were overrun by the Kingdom of Thailand and forced to give over many of their national treasures. However, there is a pretty bustling trade agreement, and since Thai Airways has been paying a sizeable, yearly bribe to the government-owned transportation department of Cambodia in an effort to keep air travel at an appealing plateau, the economy has a reasonable chance of making a turn for the better here. But you’d never know it if you did ask.

Cambodia is quite literally the poorest and most desolate country I have ever seen. I haven’t even seen commercials that try and guilt the 72-cents-per-day out of your pockets that even come close to what happens here. I saw a man digging through the open sewage to find salable items. Talk about a shit job! Puns like “scraping at the bottom of the barrel,” and “don’t have a pot to piss in,” grip with an entirely new hold around here.

But all of this still doesn’t stop the impressive size that the magnitude of Angkor drenches over you once you get to the outskirts of Siem Reap. Of course the sweat does an impressive job of drenching you also. There is simply no escaping the deviant sun that seems to linger at such an angle as to always be right in your face no matter which direction your face happens to be (facing, angled, directed? Which word do I use here that I haven’t already used in the previous sentence?)

After seeing the Tonle Sap people (river dwellers), the temples at Angkor, the craziest of crazy capitols, Phnom Phen I was finally headed over into Vietnam.

The border from Cambodia to Vietnam was my last reminder of the poverty there. There were several markets that marked the customary symbol of

trade in the tiny nation. There was all the buzz and commotion I have come to expect in the country. There were some amazing things to be seen – most just sad and depressing, but amazing nonetheless. Ladies were carrying baskets of fish and vegetables, snacks and fruits and many other things on their heads. I liked seeing that throughout my time in Cambodia. There were also people moving their things from place to place on whatever vehicles they had available to them at that particular time. Most people chose a motorbike with a trailer. But there was the occasional loaded-down bicycle or even hand-pulled carts. Many people

were just bringing things to the market at the border – the spot that marks the last chance to get cheapish Cambodian goods – before heading over into Vietnam. Or I suppose it could also have been the first place that people could purchase goods once in the country from Vietnam. In either case, it was good to have left it behind me for the better economy of the country that holds the longest coastline with the South China Sea.

Once in Vietnam (thankfully) I was surprised to see the sheer congestion of this place. I was told that it was busy. But I wasn’t told it would be elbow to elbow on motorcycles! This is just madness. But, even with all these people sweeping through the traffic in all directions, they seem to miss one another and glide right past as if it were orchestrated in some grand ballet on some enormous

stage with an even bigger set. Quite a production, indeed.

There are no close calls here, just normal driving conditions. And through all of this, there are still pedestrians, bicycles, people pushing carts and people carrying bamboo sticks with baskets on each end. I haven’t even seen so much as a dog get hit while running into the street. It’s quite an amazing thing to watch.

Traffic — Crazy traffic in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon)

And the horns: they have created their own form of communication here with the use of their horns. But more about this in my next journal. I am curious as to the honking patterns that I have noticed and I will keep an “ear” out for more information on this.

When I got on the bus in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, it was a dry, dusty place with lots of people and little recent infrastructure. But when I exited the bus in Ho Chi Minh City (the former Saigon) I stepped out into a bustling, flashing,

Bull Sign — Big, ugly dance bars line the streets and corners of Saigon

overpowering energy that is dizzying to the unprepared. There are skyscrapers, huge walls of blocks upon blocks of lights, music and karaoke bars. There are side shops with everything you could ever need. From auto mechanics and restaurants to hotels and clothing depots – and they all squeeze their businesses into these shotgun-style buildings over-top of which they most likely live. The businesses are generally run and managed by the family that lives in the establishment and I can’t figure out if it is because these people are very mistrusting of others or they just like to keep things simple – and save money. But whatever the case, it is true that competition drives the market here. If you don’t like what you see or the price of your item in one shop, there is another one just like it half a block down who may be willing to haggle a bit.

A note about the bus, though; this Finish guy name Mikoh took about five Xanax before the trip and passed out right in my lap. There was no waking him up. At several points during the trip, the bus driver slammed on his breaks sending Mikoh crashing face-first into the seat in front of him. It quickly became the highlight of entertainment of those of us seated near the front of the bus… until he started drooling on me. Then I had to grab him by the hair and pull him up. Luckily, he tells me, he didn’t remember any of it. He may have boasted of visiting five dozen countries or so, but his bus presence could still use a little work.

Field Worker — Rice workers slaved away in the fields along the roadside

All drool-pools aside, the trip was quite lovely. We headed through some of nicest rural areas that I have yet seen on this trip. We would pass rice fields; workers doing their morning planting and harvesting; far stretches of green floral symmetry would pass alongside the bus for miles; then there would be a flooded patch where bison would be feeding. I could look out at almost any time and see the South China Sea to the east as the sun climbed into the sky overhead. Along the banks and floodplains of rivers making their exits in mostly brackish, alluvial drain-pools leading into the ocean, there would be boat workers fishing and taking in the morning catches. There was one man I saw in the distance using a long pipe as a boat from which to throw his nets into the water. There would also be these strange nets suspended just above the water along the

Boater — Using a hollow tube, this fisherman sought the day's catch

ponds to the west side of the roadway. I couldn’t figure out of they used these nets to store their fish until it was time to harvest them or to grow prawn or spawn other fish or something. In either case, it was a nice addition to the long pastures and wavy fields of foliage and farmland.

Finally arriving in Hoi An, I didn’t really see much that I liked. It looked a lot like a miniature version of Saigon. So I decided to take the next trip on my open bus ticket to Hue (pronounced “Hway”). There I found a much more agreeable and photogenic setting.

Though it’s been getting cooler and cooler the farther north I travel, I have still heard that the heat is coming to this side of the world to head up the summer season. And since I have been sweating non-stop for about six months now, I welcomed the cooler climes. I even figured I would take a dip. The nearest body of water: the South China Sea. It was nice. And I had this theory about the global oceanic currents. I thought that I read once that the colder one climbs northward along the Pacific Asian coastlines, rising to the benthic plateau from the bitter waters of the abyssal plane (characteristic of this coastline) and drawing with it cooler waters that would eventually meet up with the Arctic waters around Alaska. I am not sure if I am completely correct on this note, but the water was the coolest, cleanest and most refreshing water I have felt since I left for Asia in December. It was definitely a welcomed and refreshing treat.

But for that story, you will have to wait for the next journal. I will be writing about my trip from Hue to Hanoi by Friday. I should have plenty of new insights and photos to share by then. Plus, I will finally be able to take care of the next big priority on my photography agenda: The Hill Tribes of Sapa.

Tag: Vietnam

Southeast Asia Journal 18: April 16, 2010

Southeast Asia Journal 17: April 11, 2010