Sunday,
28/10/2012 – 136 A.D.
Things I have noticed from being in Saigon
so far:
·
There is a small supermarket close
to our hotel. When you walk inside a member of staff immediately comes up to
you, picks up a (pink) basket, and follows you around the store. If you’re like
me and wave away the need for a basket, they do put it back, but still insist on following you around as you browse. Must be store policy, but it freaked us
out. We left without spending a single dong.
·
There are slightly more hawkers
here than anywhere else we’ve experienced, the big difference being that they
constantly hassle you when you’re eating your meals. Fair enough, when I smile
and say, “Thank you, no,” they rarely persist in their efforts to sell me
something. However, I noticed that the local clientele are far more rude. When
the hawkers come to them they completely blank them, either remaining silent
and refusing to look their way, or continuing their conversations with their
dining companions without pausing for a refusal. It just looks plain rude and
makes me feel a bit sorry for the hawkers, who are obviously poorer than the
punters they’re pushing the goods upon. So if I feel so sorry, surely I should
go ahead and buy something? 1. I don’t smoke anymore. 2. I don’t like bananas.
3. I already have the regulation two backpacker wristbands on my arm, can’t go
for more. 4. Isn’t that enough?
·
Certain internet sites are
banned here. No, not those kind of
sites! But very popular ones nonetheless. The odd TV channel too (alas none
showing historical soap operas or playing karaoke!) Being able to walk the
streets so freely is one thing, but when I go to log on I have to remind myself
that this is technically a Communist country. Which sites are banned? Not
telling you – I’ve already said too much!
·
There is a storm coming. You
know that big one that hit the Philippines recently? Well apparently it’s
heading the way of Vietnam. I would tune into an English-speaking channel to
check the weather forecast, but guess what? They’re banned.
Anyway, enough crappy observations, back to
today…
The Grayboys woke up feeling reasonably
okay this morning. Symptoms still exist, but they’re on the way out. And there
were fortunately no roaches kicking around beneath the pillows, sheets or
eyelids, so that’s a result. Guess the maid must have sprayed her spray a bit
harder when she attacked the room yesterday.
This morning we went to the War Remnants
Museum. Sounds a bit naff, doesn’t it? It’s not actually, it’s a very popular
tourist destination. Sounds a bit grim, doesn’t it? And you’d be right. This is
a museum on several floors detailing all that went on, not just during the
Vietnam War involving the Americans, but also the 1950s conflicts where the
Vietnamese booted out their French colonial masters, which effectively led to
the chaos that followed until reunification was complete (which you heard enough
about in yesterday’s blog!)
What immediately hit me was how everything
was from the Vietnamese perspective – there were no direct accusations that the
U.S. should never have got involved, but massive undertones suggesting that the
fault was well and truly with them. And, when I saw the countless photos and
souvenirs from the village massacres of the early days, I found myself struggling
to remain neutral, though I knew that I wasn’t getting the full picture. But so
what? Atrocities are still atrocities, no matter who is wrong or who is right.
Some of the photographs on display really
gripped me, to the point that for a few brief minutes I thought of myself in a
new career as a foreign correspondent covering wars in far off parts. Then I
remembered Smedley, and I came to my senses again. But while viewing the
exhibits I was transported far away. However, the most harrowing part was
the section showing some of the results of the U.S. dropping Agent Orange – chemical
warfare – on the rural population. I had to move quickly through that and took
no photos.
In fact, I didn’t take many photos of the
whole museum. I hate to say it, but Tim and I agreed that we’re getting a bit “warred-out”
at the moment, first with the horrors of Cambodia, now those of Vietnam. We
commented as we left that there must be some nicer, happier exports that this
part of south east Asia can be proud of, but if there are (and I’m sure there
are), then they’re all overshadowed by these damn bloody wars. It’s partly
because we are warred-out (terrible expression, I know) that we won’t be going
to the Chu Chi Tunnels 40 kilometres
outside of town. This is an underground network used by the town’s citizens to
escape the bombing and most travellers who come to these parts end up there at
some point. Maybe it’s because we’re still a tiny bit under the weather,
because we don’t want to get up at 06:30 to drive 1.5 hours out of town,
because we’ve had enough of war and all that it’s not good for, or maybe
because we just can’t be arsed. Go figure!
The early part of the afternoon was spent
in the room at the hotel. This is a room without a window. We had to get out to
go…somewhere! Anywhere!
We took a walk west to “District 5”, AKA
Chinatown. The plan was to find a Chinese travel agent. We still have to book our
flight from Xi`an to Kathmandu at the end of November and the guidebook reckons
we might get a better deal if we do it through a Chinese travel agent, i.e. one
who handles regular bulk bookings through China. And after a long, sweaty walk,
we found what the map said to be Chinatown, though it looked just like the rest
of the city. Time to find a travel agent? No – it’s Sunday. They’re all closed.
Bugger!
Later that evening, while over dinner in a
back alley restaurant, a conversation we were having led me to ask Tim the
following question:
“Do you do surreal?”
He laughed the laugh of a man who is
feeling the strain but fighting it, and replied with the following.
“Do you do serious?”
I said that I did, then repeated my
original question. He said that he did do
surreal, but he’s had four solid months of surreal, so it may not look like he
does it anymore. Poor lad! But I appreciated his honesty. That may not seem
like much of an exchange to you, dear readers, but when you’ve shared a bedroom
with someone for 135 nights, you need to know if they do or don’t do surreal.
Otherwise you won’t sleep for the 136th night.
After dinner we went to a place we’d earmarked
earlier, name of the Boston Sports Bar.
They were advertising the Merseyside Derby at 20:30 and there was no way we
were going to miss that. Shame the linesman missed the fact that our third goal
was CLEARLY ONSIDE - DO YOU NEED GLASSES
OR WHAT, MATE????
And relax…
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