I only spent my first and last days of the port stay in Vietnam. In the middle I was traveling in Cambodia on an S@S trip. But during my time in Saigon, I wanted to experience as much of Vietnam as I could. I decided to spend my first day immersing myself into the culture, and orienting myself to the city, I find if I do that early, it makes it easier to move around like a local (or as close to that as possible) for the rest of the port stay. I woke early to stand on Deck 7 and watch as we made our dramatic entrance into Ho Chi Min City. Yes, I know I am using HCMC and Saigon interchangeably, but so does everyone else. To get to the port in Saigon we had to sail up the Mekong River to the city itself. The journey up the Mekong actually took a couple hours, and was fascinating. We passed countless small fishing vessels, from which local fishermen would wave and greet us. We passed rice paddies, and refineries, and even small villages. I had to go down into the ship for part of the trip up the river, and when I reemerged, we were at the port and in the middle of a huge and extremely cosmopolitan city. Once the ship was cleared and I took the shuttle from the pier into downtown I was astounded by what I found. Saigon is incredibly modern, and western, and so busy. We passed Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and Burberry. We passed luxury hotels, and posh looking spas. There were trendy boutiques, and vendors on the streets selling cheap touristy gear. In many ways, it felt like NYC or Philly. Where was the depressed economy we had heard so much about? Where were the remaining ravages of war? I certainly didn’t see them. Everywhere we went we were welcomed by waving children or women in conical straw hats giving out flyers, or older Vietnamese folks selling silk scarves. They were happy to see us, happy to have us in their city. Yes, they clearly wanted us to spend our money, but there was no animosity, no sign that any connection was made between me and the Americans who brought so much violence decades earlier. It was so strange for me that the conflict weighed on me so heavily, but on them so lightly.
I spent the afternoon walking around with Mindy, Lesley, and Shayla. We shopped and walked around the city exploring the streets of downtown. Lesley found a tailor and ordered her bridesmaid dresses and groomsman shirts for her September wedding, and Shayla got measured for a couple dresses with fabric she bought in India. Eventually, we made our way to the huge Ben Thanh Market. This place is a gigantic warehouse market full of stalls selling every imaginable item of clothing, shoe, soap, cologne, gadget, souvenir, and knick-knack imaginable. Everything was for sale, but none of it was real. Everywhere you looked there were knock-off brand names. I bought knock-off Lacoste golf shirts, knock-off Polo golf shirts, knock-off cologne (which turned out to be crap), and even a big knock-off North Face bag to pack some of my souvenirs. I would never have gone so shopping crazy, but everything was so damn cheap! The Vietnamese currency is called the “dong” (insert dirty joke here). 1 US dollar is worth 16,500 dong. So when my friend Mindy went to the ATM to take out a hundred dollars, she was suddenly a millionaire when 1,600,000 dong came popping out. Because the currency is so devalued, nothing is expensive. I had a couple meals, full ones at that, for less than $2. How crazy, huh? And of course, the vendors are always happy to take your American currency. In fact, oftentimes, they preferred it because they got a better return on the dollar than they did on the dong.As I wandered through the market, vendors were selling fabric everywhere and always trying to hawk their wares. They were always shouting “for you, I give good price,” or “I give you discount if you buy now.” They were slick sellers. If I showed even the slightest interest in something, they pounced. If they sensed I liked something, they would immediately grab 4 other items that resembled it and try to get me to buy all of them. That’s when they would use a line that has since become a big running joke on the ship. They would show you these items and declare “same same, but different.” That confused me at first, but then I began to see they were trying to provide options so that you never had a reason to find any flaws, and thus get out of buying their stuff. I managed to deftly side-step a lot of the vendors on my journey for the perfect souvenir. For some reason, I had the goal of having a suit tailor-made for me while in Vietnam. Why? I’m not 100% sure. I already own a couple of suits, but it is one of the things to do in Vietnam. So as I wandered around in Ben Thanh Market, I stumbled across a bunch of male S@S students in a small narrow stall looking at fabric. I stopped to say hello, and the woman working the stall grabbed me and asked if I was part of their group. The guys all said that I was, and she said, “Ok, I give him deal too if you all buy now.” It turns out that the guys were each purchasing suits for $75. You chose the fabric, and then went with her to the tailor, just outside of the market place for the measuring and fitting. I figured it couldn’t hurt me to look at her fabric selection to see what I thought, right? Especially considering her price was better than any other I had heard so far. Her stall did have many nice fabrics, and eventually I found a few pinstripe fabrics that appealed to me. While I was looking around, the college guys kept asking for advice about what colors to buy and what fabrics were of quality and which weren’t. Later, I somehow became the guru for about 15 different guys helping them select the cut of their suit and what colors and patters to buy, etc. I think I steered them all in the right direction, and am glad that they see me as a snappy dresser, or at least enough to trust my judgment. Anyways… I eventually found a fabric I really liked… a navy blue with a subtle light blue pinstripe. It was listed as being cashmere wool, and was by far the one I liked best, and it didn’t hurt that it also had a more expensive tag on it. I pulled it out and handed it to the woman in charge. Then we played this strange game where she kept trying to get me to look at other far inferior and cheaper fabrics that were similar and demanding they were better, nicer, more suited for a younger guy, etc. She would drape two fabrics over me and ask a couple people for their judgments trying to make me choose the inferior fabric. When I held my ground, she turned her back and suddenly the fabric in her hand was no longer the one I had originally selected. I saw her kick it under a chair while she asserted the one she held was the one I had picked. I kept smiling and pulled the fabric out from behind the chair and reiterated it was the one I wanted. Now I should say that I found this whole process to be very humorous. Sure, I wanted a suit, but I felt no pressure to get it, and I certainly wasn’t going to allow myself to get screwed in the process. So, when she played her games, I was OK because I knew I could walk away in the end. When I brought the fabric back out, she looked frustrated and spoke in Vietnamese to the woman next to her and then told me there wasn’t enough material to make a whole suit. Then she handed me a different cheaper fabric. I handed it back to her and turned to go. Then she angrily stopped me and said they had more fabric and could make the suit, but that it would be more expensive. The whole time, the S@S students are watching and trying to pick their suits and were laughing because we all know exactly what she was trying to do. I told her that we had already agreed on a price and then walked away again. Before I could get very far, she grabbed my arm and acquiesced. I think she did it mostly because the other men were picking cheaper fabrics and had been asking me so many questions she feared losing all their business.
When we all had our fabrics, we headed over to the tailor to be measured. The tailor’s shop was full of even more S@S students with their fabrics. They had all agreed on prices that exceeded ours, which made me feel pretty good. Also, many of them were selecting their fabrics from sample books, and there wasn’t as big a selection, or as nice fabrics in my opinion. When it was my turn to be measured, I was surprised at how many different measurements were taken. Then it was time to make all sorts of decisions. The cut, the number of buttons, one slit or two? Pocket placement? Flat front or pleated? Etc. I surprised myself by having definite opinions about each of these and was pretty pleased with the suit I selected in the end… and for only $75?!? I paid and agreed to come back for my fitting that night before leaving for Cambodia the next day. I made my way back to the ship and met up with some folks for dinner. In the end about 30 staff members form the ship ended up dining in an awesome restaurant called Blue Ginger, which had great and authentic Vietnamese cuisine, and live music played in the room with us. It was a lot of fun. During dinner I ducked out for my fitting and took a moto back and forth and didn’t miss any of the fun. Gotta love that! Then it was a stroll around the night market with Shayla, Dia, Mindy, and one of our students Lydia. It ended up being an early night since the following morning I was off to Cambodia.
A word about transportation in Vietnam: One of my favorite things to do in Saigon was to cross the street. I sometimes invented reasons to cross the street because it was so much fun. I’m not kidding… walking across the streets was actually a tourist activity in and of itself. Saigon is a city of about 6 million people, and about 4 million motor scooters. They are EVERYWHERE. There is a constant hum of motor engines revving, and scooters zipping around you. It never stopped. Thy bikes took up every lane of the roads, and were always jamming the intersections. When you wanted to cross the street, you just made looked straight ahead, said a prayer, and committed to making it across. You don’t wait for a break in the traffic, and you don’t look both ways (b/c that would only serve to scare the crap out of you). You just close your eyes and GO! It’s unnerving to see all the motor scooters coming straight at you, but the etiquette is that the bikes just move around you as you walk. As long as your pace is constant, they just maneuver around and you somehow get to the other side unscathed. It was the most exhilarating thing. I loved it. Cross walks be damned! My favorite way to travel around the city was by moto. Taxis are not too prevalent, and the cyclos (bike rickshaws) are too slow. Most people go by moto. The motos are motor scooters/cycles where you just haggle with the driver and then hop on the back of his bike and off you go. They are regulated, and all wear the same purple shirt, so it’s easy to identify them, but were so much fun. I’d never been on a motorcycle before b/c my Mom is a nurse and has always referred to them as “donor cycles.” But whizzing along on them, clutching to the driver as he weaved in and out of the Saigon traffic, I can see the appeal. Lucky for me, I avoided the awful 2nd and 3rd degree muffler burns that many of our students got as a souvenir from their rides. Riding on the motos was by far the cheapest, quickest, and most enjoyable way to move around the city. Plus, it’s how the natives travel… and doing things authentically always helps me feel more engaged in the experience.
My trip to Cambodia began bright and early the following morning. I was a bus leader working with Ron & Jane Wisner, who are the Asst. Dean and Dependant Children Coordinators respectively. On our trip we had about 35 students and 25 parents traveling with us. That was both awesome, and unnerving. Our students are used to the process of S@S trips and understand how things run, but the parents do not. It took some time orienting them to how things work, and also to help them understand the need for flexibility in our travel plans. Having them around really highlighted for me just how much I and our students have changed as a result of our journey. Crossing international borders and negotiating foreign airports, currencies, and languages has almost become second nature, but really flustered many of the parents. When we arrived in Phenom Penh I found it to be similar to Saigon in how cosmopolitan it appeared. There was a greater sense of depression and a more urgent need for community rehabilitation as a result of the more recent atrocities that took place there, but it was surely not the destroyed city I expected to find. At one point, one of the parents came over to my lunch table and commented to me and some students “can you believe this place” referring to Cambodia. We all replied that yes, it was pretty amazing, meaning that it was beautiful and exotic, and cosmopolitan. The mother went on to say how disgusted she was at the poverty she saw and the squalor she perceived to be so terrible. The students and I exchanged a perplexed look, and I had to explain to her that after seeing the favelas in Brazil, the townships in South Africa, and the reality of life in India we had very different notions of poverty. What we saw in Cambodia was very different than what she saw. That moment was a real eye-opener. I’m happy that I saw things differently than she did, that my perspective has become more worldly, and my ideas less western or American. Traveling with parents was also interesting because meeting these parents shed a lot of light on how and why their children behave the way that they do. I mean this in both the most positive and negative of ways.
In Phenom Penh we explored the Royal Palace where the reigning monarch lives in amazing splendor. The buildings were decked out with gold and jewels and all sorts of decoration. The surroundings were lavish and right out of a movie or picture book. It seemed that every vantage point was a new exotic postcard view. Everything I saw reminded me of pictures I have seen of Thailand, with the same style of architecture and roofs. I was going to comment on that when our guide Wanthy explained that the Khmer culture was stolen long ago by the people in Siam (current Thailand). Everything that is famous about many of the other Southeast Asian countries really find its basis in Khmer culture. This fascinated me. Sadly the same Khmer culture is now scarce in Cambodia as a result of the killings done by the Khmer Rouge.
After visiting the opulent palace our group took a cruise down the Tonlé Sap River to the confluence with the Bassac and Mekong Rivers. All along the water were people living in huts that are built on stilts. We learned that they were all recently displaced because the land along the water has been bought and is to be redeveloped into a huge resort and casino complex. Progress and innovation come to Cambodia, or so they say. Seeing these people living on the water, and rowing their small boats along, fishing for their meal, and enjoying the company of their families was really touching.
Later that night we had an amazing dinner of Khmer cuisine with spring rolls, and steamed noodle dishes, and wok barbequed meats. There was so much, and so many choices it’s a wonder we didn’t all gain 20 lbs. At the end of the meal we were served ice cream in 2 flavors. One turned out to be red bean, and the other was durian. Durian is a fruit that “smells like hell but tastes like heaven”. After one bite almost everyone there was scraping their tongues with their napkins, but I gotta tell you, I loved the stuff. I couldn’t get enough. To me it tasted like a milkshake crossed with cookie dough. No one else seemed to understand. I was also a big fan of the dragon fruit. The fruit looks like a dragon on the outside with pink/red curls coming off the green spherical shape. Inside, it is bright white with tiny black seeds all thorough it. The fruit is the texture of kiwi and has a similar sweet taste. It was good stuff. I ate it at every meal in Cambodia.While our first day in Cambodia was full of wonder at the opulence of the palace, and the culture of life along the Mekong and Tonlé Sap, the second day was depressing and dark. Our first stop was to the Toul Sleng Museum which was once a high school before the Pol Pot regime (short for Political Potential) turned it into a concentration camp run by the Khmer Rouge. Almost every resident of Toul Sleng eventually was slaughtered in the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, which we visited later that day. As we walked through the school we saw the small cells where people were kept, the rooms and devices that held and tortured them, and walls full of their faces in prisoner photos. The Cambodians do not employ any subtlety in the telling of their history. Every detail is put forth bluntly, and in detail, with pictures. I, and all the others, were speechless as a result of what we saw. Following our visit to Toul Sleng, we made our way to Choeung Ek and the Killing Fields. I have to admit, I was afraid to go to this place because of all it represented. Not having been to any holocaust sites in Germany, this was the closest I’ve ever been to a genocide, and I didn’t know how I would handle it. The first thing you encounter when you arrive at the Choeung Ek is a huge white stupa, or memorial tower. As you get closer you realize the stupa has glass walls and is filled with shelves holding human skulls, over 8,000 in total. It was one of the most horrific sites I have ever encountered, especially when you look closely and recognize that many of the skulls bear witness to the fact that they were bludgeoned to death for the sake of saving precious bullets. It is estimated that over 17,000 bodies lie in Cheoung Ek. No ones knows the exact number because of the 129 mass graves on the site only about 70 of them were opened before the workers stopped. They were not able to identify the bodies, and there was no proper way to deal with all of the carnage, so they simply left the rest of the sites in tact. As we wandered the site, we found areas labeled in grisly detail. We saw the trees against which children were beaten to death, and the place where they hung the speakers used to play music that drowned out the screams of victims as they were being beaten to death. Wandering the paths was difficult because you quite literally stumbled across human bone and clothing poking from the churned ground. Again, many of us were struck dumb. Cambodia went from a nation of almost 7million people to one of just over 4 million in a matter of a couple of years due to these mass killings. Without fail, those killed were the educated, the politically active, the cultured class. They were students, and teachers, and doctors, lawyers, artists. They were all labeled as subversive and either fled, or were killed. Those left have tried to piece together their heritage during the last few decades, and to do so under the specter of this gruesome past. Many of those who fled have never returned for fear that the violence could somehow resurge. That reality is so distant from my own, it was almost too difficult to grasp… almost, but not quite. Even a couple weeks later, I am not sure how to make sense of what I saw there.
As we wandered Cheoung Ek, there were a number of children waving at us through the fence begging for money. They have become accustomed to western tourists and are savvy enough to demand money in exchange for their posing for a picture. While they knew enough English to say “one, two, three, smile” there were no smiles from these kids, and their affect was completely flat. Considering the surroundings I didn’t see much to smile about either. They seemed like the oldest 8 year olds I ever met due to what they have seen in their lives. I took a couple pictures with them, and gave them a few dollars but felt strange about doing it. It’s the same dilemma I encountered in India. Who is it okay to give to? When is it okay to give, and when does it just do more harm? I want to help people that need it, but really resented the demands for money in order to take a picture. In some ways I felt manipulated. I felt guilty, which is why I ended up reaching into my pocket. It was not a nice feeling, as you can imagine. But, people need to survive, right? These girls couldn’t help the situation they were born into. They were just trying to persevere and provide for themselves. Still no conclusions there, but I’ll keep thinking on it.
When we left the Killing Fields we drove to a shopping mall, and somehow that just felt wrong. When we arrived at the Russian Market, many of the parents on our trip went hog wild, and so did many of the students. We spent only about 45 minutes at this market that was once frequented by the Russian visitors to Phenom Penh (hence the name), but the parents on the trip complained about the lack of appropriate shopping time. For their benefit we built more shopping time into the itinerary later, but it still felt strange to change gears so quickly. After some lunch we took a quick trip to the National Museum to see ancient Khmer artwork which combined elements of Hinduism and Buddhism. It was very interesting to see how the two were combined and sometimes practiced together in ancient times. After the art tutorial, we all headed for the airport and our flight to Siem Reap, the home of Angkor Wat, one of the 7 Wonders of the World. Our first stop in Siem Reap was Angkor Wat itself. The palace complex is astounding. It is the largest religious building on Earth, and is easily one of the most inspired and spectacular monuments ever conceived of by the human mind. This city, with a moat that would make any European castle blush, was once home to a population of over a million people at a time when London was a hamlet of less than 50,000. The palace complex was hidden for hundreds of years and was swallowed by the jungle when the Angkor empire fell into decline. It wasn’t until the early 1900’s that it was “rediscovered” and restored to today’s present state. While we were not able to enter the complex the first evening, the place boggled my mind. It looms in front of you as you approach it, and just continues to grow with each step. The jungle surrounding it makes it appear even more mysterious. The entire time I was in Siem Reap and around the temples, I felt like I had stepped into an Indiana Jones or Lara Croft movie. The entire place looked like a movie set but real and in 3-D Technicolor, right in front of me. The next morning, many of us returned for a dawn visit. I got a bunch of great pictures of the sun rising over the temple complex, and then explored the main buildings, climbed up the steeeeep stairways and enjoyed the exquisite bas relief sculptures. I couldn’t shake that movie hero/archeologist feeling. It was intoxicating. 
Later in the day, we returned to the temple complex, but also visited other nearby sites, including Ta Prohm, which is a complex that has huge towers with 4-faced Buddha sculptures and buildings where the jungle has become so invasive and ensnared the buildings so much that the trees are now a part of the buildings. This area has been used as a movie set in recent years for Tomb Raider movies, and other action adventures. I knew I had seen them somewhere. Ha! We also spent part of the day checking out the Elephant Terrace, and Angkor Thom, five monumental gates built outside of the Angkor Wat complex. One of the things I found most interesting, is that even though the temples were built as Hindu temples, and later converted and used as Buddhist temples, they are still being used for a religious purpose. Once they were “rediscovered” people began to once again light incense, and lay flowers, and wrap the statues of the gods in saffron cloth. On more than one occasion wizened old Khmers would hand me three sticks on incense and instruct me on the proper way to bow (three times, very low) and show respect before placing the lit incense at the feet of the statues of Buddha. It made the temples feel somehow alive, and not just like hollow ruins that we have seen elsewhere on our voyage. The haze of fragrant incense also made everything seem all the more mysterious and vibrant. I feel that I should try to describe these places as much as I can, but the reality is that I’d do a crappy job. Suffice it to say, they have to be seen to be believed. 
I have experienced every port of my voyage through my stomach eating amazing local food and appreciating how people in these countries eat. That continued in Cambodia, but when S@S chooses the restaurant and foots the bill, it means deluxe meals. We had some damn good food in Cambodia. Many of the meals were buffets, but they did not disappoint. I ate all sorts of foods I could not identify (always after popping my Pepto). And loved (almost) every bite. I’m still not sure what animals all the meat came from, and can’t identify what all the fried foods were, but hey… when in Asia, do as Asians do, etc… Our final night in Cambodia, we had dinner with a show. We saw a number of Cambodian youths perform Apsara dances for us. These are folk dances with young couples acting out courtships and flirtations, but the ones I really enjoyed were the traditional Khmer dances with ornate costumes and exaggerated gestures. This was another example of culture that many associate with Thailand, but which originates with the Angkor and Khmer cultures from Cambodia. It was beautiful and exotic and very well done. We learned that the Apsara dancers are all young women who are unmarried virgins. Once a woman is married, she can no longer be an Apsara. Apsara are represented in a lot of the artwork that can be found in the area. I found many statuettes and bas reliefs of these dancers who have been an integral part of the Angkor and Khmer culture for millennia. At the end of their performance, the strangest thing happened. The dancers stood on the stage, like frozen life-sized dolls and the tourists flooded the stage to take pictures with them. At first I was upset at how rude they were, but it seemed to be the norm, and the expected behavior by the dancers and the management. I decided against having my photo taken. It still looked/felt weird to me.
Being in Cambodia, and knowing the country’s reputation, I had expected to stay in some really awful places, and I was ready for that. I figured it would help make the dark history of the nation more real for me. I was very wrong. Semester at Sea doesn’t do shabby when it comes to hotels. Both hotels we used were deluxe and beautiful. In both instances I had suites that are larger than my living room at home, and both with balconies and great views. Each place had doormen greeting us with cold glasses of local fruit juices and cool towels to mop our brows. The ceiling and floors were teak, and the TV showed many cable channels. It almost felt wrong to stay in such luxury. In Siem Reap, it would have been hard to avoid. We passed resort after resort with names like Four Seasons, St. Regis, and Meridian. I guess the tourist economy isn’t doing so poorly in Cambodia… or they’re just really milking Angkor Wat for all they can.We flew back to Saigon from Siem Reap on Vietnam Air (on prop planes no less, ugh!) which gave us all one more day to explore Vietnam before our departure. One of the most interesting things about traveling between Vietnam and Cambodia was that during both entry and exit for the two countries, my passport was very thoroughly examined. The immigration officials looked from the picture to my face, back and forth for a good 30 seconds each time verifying I was indeed the man in the picture (now 8 years old). They scrutinized the document, the visas, the stamps, etc. They were thorough. It was unsettling to say the least. I feared they would find some flaw and I’d end up in some detention facility somewhere. Anyways, my first order of business when I got back to HCMC was to collect my suit. When I arrived at the tailor and tried it on, I was horrified to find that the pants were too small. The thighs were so tight my legs looked like stuffed sausages and I couldn’t get the zipper up, let alone button them. I was so sad, because I figured this meant they were not fixable, and since they already had my money, I figured I was S.O.L. The jacket was perfectly tailored, but what good is it without the pants?? Luckily, I had spent some time chatting with a few of the people who worked in the tailor shop, and they really wanted to make me happy, so they tried a bunch of different techniques to make the pants fit. I had to return to the shop 4 more times before the pants finally got to an appropriate fit. They aren’t perfect, and if I gain a few pounds, we might have a big problem, but for now they work. I had a couple friends with me the last time I tried them on, and they all seemed to think I looked good. So, I’ll be sporting the new suit for the Ambassador’s Ball in a few weeks. And daaaaamn… I’m gonna look good.
During my final day, I decided to tackle the history of the Vietnam War head on. I signed up to lead an S@S trip to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Cu Chi is an area an hour outside of Saigon where the citizenry rebelled against the American invasion by creating a system of tunnels and then using them very effectively in guerilla warfare against the US troops. When we arrived, we were first shown a movie. The movie was about 10 minutes long and was told from the Vietnamese perspective discussing the peaceful people of Cu Chi who were forced to valiantly protect their land, and rebel against the invading enemy. At first I dismissed the film as propoganda, but it really accentuated for me how differently the “American War” is perceived by Vietnamese. I had never tried to view the war from the other side of the coin, and when I did… I was not altogether comfortable with it. It was too easy to sympathize with the Viet Cong, too easy to see the guerilla fighters as righteous, even though that is quite the opposite of what we learn in American textbooks and movies. Next we visited the tunnel complex, and were shows demonstrations of the traps and killing methods the guerilla fighters used against the Americans. This was another example of a complete lack of subtlety compared to American museums. They were no allusions to violence or injury. The traps were demonstrated using bloodied dummies. They showed exactly how these traps were used, and how effective they were in killing and causing grave harm. You could practically hear the screams of agony from American soldiers caught in them. The entire presentation was done with pride at how effective the techniques were in repelling “the enemy.” Even though I could too easily identify with the victims our guide talked about, I didn’t feel anger towards our guide, or the Vietnamese guerillas he discussed. I somehow felt removed from the whole situation. On some level, I think it was my way of coping with what I was seeing. Later we were invited to crawl through the tunnels to experience what the guerilla fighters went through trying to track and then ambush the American troops. The tunnels were incredibly small. I am a big guy and had to crawl through them, and at times slide on my belly, or find ways to unwedge myself. In a couple of places I was not sure I would be able to get out of the tunnels. And these were in the tunnel sections that had been widened, almost doubled in size for the benefit of tourists like us. To think that the Viet Cong moved around and even lived in these tunnels for months at a time boggled my mind. They definitely proved to be successful tools of war.
Later in our tour, we were invited to buy bullets and then shoot off the rounds in automatic weapons provided in a nearby range. RD Mindy and I both bought a few rounds for an AK-47 and shot them off at the range. I did it because I wanted to see what it might have been like for an American soldier in Vietnam to look through the barrel of a weapon, take aim, and fire. Oddly, it felt just like target practice in Boy Scout Camp as a kid, but with the realization that the weapon I held was made to kill men, and not shoot targets. The entire experience was very humbling. The most upsetting part of the day was that many of the students who were there with us cracked jokes the whole time. They posed or made dirty gestures in pictures with the displays or mannequins, or just generally made asses of themselves. That just seemed to demean the memory of all those who had been killed in the conflict we were there to learn about. In many ways, I wish I had visited the site alone, or with only a few other people. After we left the tunnels, we visited the Vietnamese equivalent of the Vietnam Wall. It was a huge Memorial complex filled with the graves of the local soldiers who died in the conflict at the hand of the Americans. The monument had a huge sculptural relief that depicted the Vietnamese as heros, and the Americans as cruel invaders. Ho Chi Min himself, was depicted prominently as a mythic figure sheltering the huddled masses. It was eerie to see the opposite side of the war memorialized in such a different way than in the United States, where “the Wall” was one of my favorite spaces to visit in DC. It was definitely a morning of reflection.The afternoon was more lighthearted. Mindy and I had some great cheap street food and Pho back at the Ben Thanh Market and did a little more shopping before meeting up with fellow staff members Lesley, Matt R., and Matt I. We all agreed we wanted to get massages, so off we went to Dong Khoi Street, a trendy area with expensive boutiques and spas. We sifted through the maaany flyers that were shoved in our hands and eventually chose a spa. We asked for massages, and were told to wait. Eventually, they came out and said they were ready for us. We thought we were being led to different rooms, but 4 of us were brought to one small room with 4 massage tables. (Matt I. just got a foot rub). After some awkward glances and questions we figured out that we were all going to receive massages simultaneously. A curtain was drawn between the men’s tables and women’s and we disrobed and lay down. Then 4 ladies came in and began our Thai Massages. This was one of the strangest massages I have ever received. And not just because three of my friends were getting exactly the same massage as me at the same time (we could tell from the same slapping and stretching noises, and all the giggles, grunts, and moans that came out of us). It was so different because I have never been slapped, walked on, elbowed, stretched, bended, or rubbed in so many awkward, invasive, and unfamiliar ways. I loved it. I think we were all worried about just what kind of massage we were going to receive especially how the massage would “end” get it??) But luckily, there was no funny business in these massages. An hour and $9 later, we all rolled out of the spa like wobbly Jello. I think you are bonded for life after being nearly naked and smacked around with people. I surely feel closer to Lesley, Matt, & Mindy as a result. It was the source of many jokes later... especially after our other friends heard about it.
The last few hours in Saigon were spent eating dinner with Dia, Shayla, and a student from the ship. We went to a special restaurant where the owner has discovered the best street chefs from around the city and put them under one roof. Each specializes in one dish, noodles, curries, dumplings, etc. Once you order your food, the waiter moves around the rim of the restaurant and “picks up” your food from the different stations to be served to you. The food was all amazing, and we all felt good that the money was going right back into the community in a beneficial way. It was a nice way to finish out the time in Vietnam.
As I type these last words, I am getting ready to pull into Kobe, Japan. I’m a port behind in my blogging, but feeling reflective as I get ready to explore the final foreign country on our itinerary. I am changing as a result of this ‘voyage of discovery.’ And I think that my time in Vietnam and Cambodia will play a large part in those changes. Let’s hope that Japan, like China & Hong Kong, will continue to do me well. I send my love to everyone back home in the states.
XOXO-Drew
1 comment:
Can't wait to see the suit!! Love YA!!
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