We didn't exactly rough it in Vietnam. Our hotel in Saigon was modern, in the high rent district, and catered to Westerners. We were taken to the Mekong in a cushy van and rode through it on fancy mountain bikes. At the beach in Mui Ne, we splurged and checked in to a boutique hotel replete with fluffy beach towels and complimentary fresh juice pool side. Even considering these luxuries, we experienced plenty of developing world idiosynchracies. And while Vietnam wasn't really our cup of chai, it was worth spending a few weeks.
Its hard to be honest when making observations about poverty-stricken nations. Our yuppie liberal New Yorker guilt begins to rear its head about the same time that our frustration peaks. But one thing this trip has done is to wear away at the political correctness we carefully practiced at home, so observe I shall.
The value of tourist sites has been overinflated by the Vietnamese. Clearly, when backpackers first hired small fishing boats to cruise the Mekong, it must have felt like a fascinating and somewhat secret gem. Now, trips to the Mekong are big business in Vietnam. The country, understandably, markets every natural and man-made resource as "must sees" for tourists. In reality, a lot of it just isn't that impressive. No other country we've visited has as many tours, tour-based scams, tourist offices, travel agents, bus companies, etc., as Vietnam. And yet as compared to, say, China most of the "sights" aren't much to see. You can't blame the locals; most haven't traveled beyond the country's borders and assume that if Westerners will buy it, its worth selling.
The 3rd world is freaking loud. People are accustomed to living in tight, crowded quarters. Extended families live together and room is made in the home for whomever needs it. In cities the noise of traffic, construction, and humanity combined can be deafening; the locals seem to block it out and don't need to seek a quiet respite. For us, this can be head splitting. One rainy afternoon, I went for a pedicure near our hotel in Saigon. At home, the sound of tabloid pages flipping and the nail-doers chattering in their native tongue would be the soundtrack. The salon in Saigon was like stepping into a dorm room. One girl was playing a shooting video game on a laptop at full volume. Another was doing her make up in the mirror while yelling at someone on her cell phone. Next to the register, the manager was hacking up a pork shoulder and her husband was cutting watermelon slices. Having expected some much-needed quiet away from the chaos of the city, this wasn't what I had in mind.
People use everything. Salespeople in the high end department stores cropping up all over Saigon don't yet understand the specific type of professionalism generally required in a white-tiled mall. The girls at the make-up counters can usually be found applying testers or lounging in the customer chairs, texting. On a steamy hot day in Saigon we hit up the Lotte Cinema for an afternoon showing of Harry Potter. Side note, if you haven't read any of the books or seen the prior films, you may find #7 confusing. The floor the theater was on was freezing; air conditioned and much cooler than the rest of the mall. It shouldn't have surprised me, but did, to go into the ladies room and find two female security guards sitting on the cool tile floor eating their lunch.
And, in wrapping up the bathroom topic, I can't fail to mention my favorite bathroom sign which can be seen all over SE Asia & China. This is squat toilet territory and the concept of sitting is still relatively new. Often women use the western toilets by squatting, soles of their shoes on the seat. Many a ladies room, including in the Saigon airport, have signs on the back of the doors illustrating how to use a toilet.
In Vietnam, both traditional and modern dress have been forsaken in favor of matching pajamas. Most grown women outside of the city can be seen sporting matching pj tops and bottoms. And not of the Dick Van Dyke/L.L. Bean/Monogrammed pocket variety. These are poly stretch, slightly bell bottomed, brightly colored ensembles. While infinitely practical, there is also something so charming about them; they're like a team of dismissed gong show contestants ready to do the jerk, or take a nap, at a moment's notice.
A less charming observation is the cruelty shown to animals. Dog is still a popular dish in Vietnam. Since the country was opened to import, it is no longer heavily relied upon but there are still blocks in Saigon that will feature 2 or 3 dog restaurants in a row. Perhaps as a result of the fine line between pet and dinner, even the domestic animals are often beaten or neglected. Walking down a beach road in Mui Ne, we saw a family lounging outside their shack/variety store with a puppy. I'm not certain what offense was committed, but the matriarch thwacked the dog in the head with a broom so hard that the sound echoed and the dog went screaming into the house. My instant reaction was to want to hit her equally hard with a broom stick. But this is a different world and I don't pretend to understand what passes for acceptable.
My lack of understanding extends to sanitary conditions, as well. More than once a waitress touched the food on our plates with bare hands. Trying to be helpful, the proprietor of a Hue restaurant on our hotels' block picked up a spring roll off my plate, made me a lettuce wrap, dipped it in dressing, and then handed it back to me to eat. These moments seem trivial in reflection, but sitting in a nice restaurant away from the solicitous moto drivers, the open manhole covers, and the constant din of "madam madam madam," we would relax but then immediately be caught off guard again.
Similarly, our ideas about schedules have been challenged. We took the "nice" bus to Mui Ne, arranged by our hotel. The A/C barely worked, the bus driver yelled into his cell phone the entire ride, and we stopped to have a tire changed half way through. The Vietnamese, used to waiting around, didn't think this a bit strange. The foreigners who thought the cool ride through the countryside would be 4 hours and were practically peeing in our seats when it turned into six and a half, were not nearly as patient.
Traveling in poor countries is hard and strange. We come from priveledge, we're traveling the world, and we don't even have jobs. Our expectations are frequently not met, and it seems cruel and selfish to complain, but that doesn't make the day to day any breezier.
Being in Vietnam was eye-opening for us and while I don't pretend to understand the finer points of the country's history or the current political situation, I know a lot more than I did on arrival. I'm glad to have gone, but I'm also happy to have left.
