Entry Wounds. Episode 02: "Whatever you do. Don't get off the boat!"

=====
14/12/03 11:00am Ho Chi Minh City
=====
No piano playing this morning! Hmmph. Thus no incentive to sleep in, so I jotted down some Vietnamese language and got myself a xe ôm driver to take me to the ANZ nhá bâng (bank) Withdrew a million dong and immediately became suspicious of everyone. Wealth is most definitely a blessing and a curse. When I arrived back at my lodging, four of the cutest kids in the world were playing marbles in the alley, they said Hi! And beckoned Hi-5’s. I reciprocated and they became hysterical with laughter. The little and cutest girl was mesmorised by the hair on my legs, and giggles ecstatically when she touched it. Instinctively I went to ruffle the hair on the heads as I’m used to at home. But stopped short, remembering that the head is considered sacred here, and if I patted them on the head I’d be blocking the path of their spirit to the heaven after she died. Not a great friendship starter! The innocence of the little boy revealed a good cultural perspective; through an ear to ear grin he said brightly “Hello”, he repeated himself “Hello!”, I responded the same and he responded once more with “Hello Money” All the innocence was dashed at that moment, and I got the sudden urge to pat him on the head. But I refrained and retired to my room.
========
14/12/03 5:00pm HCMC
========
Saw a great shirt today in a little store somewhere near Cholon, (Ho Chi Minh’s China town; yes every damn city has a China town! Shanghai probably has one!) Anyway, the shirt read “May your dream never come true!” Classic! I’m on a mission this week to find it. Although I doubt there’s too many Swedish lesbian orgies, who dabble in world domination round here, so I’m pretty safe I figure.

Oh Oh, and I thought of my first joke.. ready: How do you know your country is poor? A: When you come to Vietnam as a refugee! Ha Ha. Oh man that’s low, but it’s true! Cambodians are in such dire conditions that they smuggle themselves to Vietnam to beg. Heartbreaking to see any of the beggars around here, especially the landmine victims and napalm victims, but it is soul shattering to think that the Viet police have zero tolerance for the Cambodians, even the toddlers. Who knows what they do to them when found.

Oh and here’s an ingenious little piece of ingenuity on behalf of the people of HCMC, all the trees that line the roads are painted white up to about a metre from the ground. Why? So the drunks won’t stumble into them at night. How many times could I have used that in the last few years!! Brilliant!

==========
15/12/03 The Mekong Delta
==========
**Note to self: Don’t go on tourist tours.**
Uhh! I feel dirty and I feel sick, and it aint the pollution or the food. I couldn’t tell who was on parade us anglo’s and Japanese in our air-conditioned minibus, or the staff, oops I mean “villagers” steadily going through the paces of their “authentic” lifestyle.

I boarded the bus at 8am, but not before I picked up a copy of Howard Marks, Mr Nice from a roaming sales lady. She initially charged me 100,000 dong ($10) but I pointed out to her that I’d got both Catch-22 and Jack Kerouac for that price yesterday off one of her competitors. She whinged and whined and I gave in at $7. Who knows what her bottom price is, probably $2. The book paid off however, because it was a two hour drive to the boat, and after the first hr of driving the scenery on the outskirts of HCMC and the proceeding rural areas varied little. Essentially sections of rice fields, and marshland interjected by dilapidated storefronts constructed primarily from corrugated iron sheets and bamboo. Within these structures, people sold goods ranging from Gucci Jeans to Mazda 323 bumpers..oh and another common sight is Trúong Nyugèn (vietnam’s Starbucks). These coffee houses are everywhere, and it’s ironic that this stimulant is so prevalent considering little business begins before 8am and after midday a good percentage of store proprietors can be seen sleeping in hammocks out the front of their store.

The scenery it can be said is eccentric. 65 years of French colonial rule has resulted in beautiful tropical Parisian pockets of architecture and fantastic baguettes and croissants. However the subsequent Soviet backing in the latter half of the 20th century has resulted in a multitude of bland, grey and red cement behemoths, usually utilised as gubberment buildings but occasionally as business houses. Several simply stand empty, however they age well because they looked dreary and dilapidated when originally created, thanks to those super-practical Soviet architects, whose imagination was obviously inspired by the long cold Soviet winters. To add to the effect many of these graying giants have an eye catching feature out front. A polished stainless steel spike, at least 10 metres tall with 2-3 stainless steel spheres spread between the base and tip. All this set against a lush green backdrop of palm trees and rice fields. Did someone say ‘Contrast’!. And green is one colour Vietnam definitely has an abundance of. The tour guide mentioned a quote about Vietnam’s flora; “In Vietnams, plants don’t just grow, they explode!” I couldn’t tell if this was in reference to the fertility of the environment, or the left over landmines, but in either case I got the picture.

Finally we made it to the Mekong Delta. We boarded a small wooden boat and skirted the peripheries of the delta. I had expected tall reeds and marshlands but I had obviously underestimated the potential of one of the world’s most silt laden rivers. Instead, massive, broad leaved palms (with no trunk) towered above us. Within this, stout dark green trees and all of it woven together by lantana. It was in a word; impenetrable and even if you did try to enter by foot, you’d have to slog your way through the glue like mud that all this grown upon. No wonder the US troops couldn’t make headway here. The only access is via the labyrinth of canals, for which we had to change our transport to canoes. The palm fronds completely cover all but the widest parts, meaning that from the air you are undetectable. It all started to get a little ‘Platoon’ for me, which was great, until ‘Wham!’ right in front of us a painted pink sign read: “Coconut Lolly Factory - Tourist tours here”. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, obviously my ‘kitch’ radar was still working. We were then herded, I mean led, out of the boat and along a path to where under a thatched roof a group of locals were making Coconut nougat by hand. And damn good nougat it was, but it all got tragic after that. We were then led to the gift stall where a young girl pleaded with us to purchase anyone of the thousand useless items her family had created from Coconut shells. I don’t want to be too harsh here but--- A half-Coconut shell with a hole in it, DOES NOT CONSTITUTE A PENCIL HOLDER! NOR DOES A HALF-COCONUT SHELL WITH NO HOLE IN IT CONSTITUTE A PAPER WEIGHT! Everyone knows Coconut shells are only good for two things; drinking Cocktails from and a thing to make horsey sounds with.
And just when I thought I couldn’t cringe anymore, a family emerged from a thatch hut, all dressed in formal attire and proceeded to sing authentic Vietnamese songs with the backing of Vietnamese instruments. Now the music aint my cup of tea quite yet, and that’s ok, this is what culture exchange is all about, and that’s not what made the bile make its way up my esophagus. It was the ‘dance for the master, monkey’ atmosphere of the whole affair. I don’t know it this pantomime erodes their dignity or it’s just my own guilty conscience from studying ‘post-colonial perspectives’ at Uni, but I’m all cringed out. What a way to blow $7. I’ll be happy to return to the authenticity of the city tomorrow, with its dual pricing system for foreigners and taxi drivers who take the scenic route to the city centre via the airport.

======
16/12/03 3:00 pm HCMC
======
Vietnam is a dyslexic friendly country. Here AIDS isn’t called AIDS, here they call it SIDA. Another gubberment decision. ‘Way to throw a spanner in the works of a global education initiative guys!’. And the Vietnamese word for Man is Nam, which is a convenient coincidence when your searching for the amenities. Although it does beg the question; when ya Uncle Pete starts regaling stories of his time in Nam, maybe Charlie wasn’t so much the opposition, but the product of a proposition, and his condition aint an itchy finger, but rather a limp wrist. Speaking of Cholon, that’s the name of a suburb here, and it’s a good thing the prevailing winds blow from the North-East coz it doesn’t smell too dissimilar to its name sake. Other great linguistic curiosities around town are a brand of cigarettes called ‘Craven’. No that’s an honest marketing ploy if ever I saw one. Although it has to settle with second, because in a city where 1700 scooter accident are reported daily (unreported figures must be ten times this) those geniuses down at Yamaha Vietnam have come up with their latest model to hit the bitumen; yes it’s the Yamaha Smash! Can’t wait to get me one of them!
Hopefully the trend continues and I’ll soon be able to take a swig of ice cold Cirrhosis Lager and a McBypass Burger. Although I’ll have to wait for the latter as McDonalds is banned here, which is an absolute pleasure and undoubtedly contributes to the fact that I haven’t seen one fat local. Not one! The wise ones in the offices have also tastefully edited PayTV here. They ban all but a few channels, leaving German News, The Discovery Channel, The National Geographic Channel, and the Animal Planet channel. 38 channels of static, pay TV never looked so good. Curiously however MTV slipped through. Although it’s not the MTV I know, but rather a bizarre and far more tragic mutation called MTV Asia. Andy Warhol was right, pop will eat itself, but not before it vomits itself all back up over the orient.

Cheers, Agent Orange