Posted: Aug.2010, Written: Oct.2009
I went from Saigon (Ho Chi Minh) further south to the Mekong Delta for a couple days. It reminded me a lot of southern Laos, where the only modes of transport are boat and bicycle. The land is a money making machine, littered with paddy fields, palm, coconut and tropical fruit trees. I decided I wanted to know more about the livelihoods of the locals so I visited a coconut candy factory, a lacquer factory for the handicapped, a mud brick and salt factory as well. Sounds random, I know, but that's their life. They use every possible resource around them to eat and live on, and the water from the Delta (abundant with fresh water fish) feeds the life here making starvation seem impossible in these parts.
I rented a bicycle from my homestay and attempted to cycle the narrow mud paths. The slopes were tricky and the terrain was brutal since my bike was possibly made in 1940. I nearly toppled off the side of the path and into the canal before calling it quits.
I wandered into a home asking to buy some tea or water and was quickly ushered inside by a family of women. Mom, auntie, daughter and baby grand-daughter all helping together to weave bamboo floor mats. They gave me tea, pineapples, papaya, bananas and chili salt for dipping...all of this coming from their backyards! They let me stay and cool off, they also giggled mercilessly at my attempt to weave the bamboo mat alongside them. Then, somehow, I ended up babysitting, the small baby cooing in my arms while the women were off running their evening errands. When they came back I said thank you in my horrible Vietnamese, packed up my bicycle and walked the damn thing back to my homestay.
The homestay owner introduced himself to me and when he found out I was American whisked me away to his private stash. The rice whiskey was ceremoniously brought out and chanting of 'you're number one!' shot for shot, began on both sides, America and Vietnam. My host is an ex-Viet Cong who came down to fight the war against the Americans in the South. Ban Tre, and the village I was staying in is all ex-Viet Cong territory. The soldiers here decided to stay, long after the Americans went home and the government turn over, deciding that life in the tropical South was much easier than the terrain in the North. The man whole heartedly embraced me as an American, sharing his whiskey and songs the whole night. The message was clear: the war has long since been over, and there was only loss in the war (on both sides). The pain from the war will die with his generation, and should not affect ours today. The past will stay where it is...in the past. Like he said, he traded guns and knives for love songs and fishing a long long time ago.
Early the next morning, 7 am, the tide was just right enough for me to leave my homestay by boat to get to the main road. Battling one brutal hangover, I managed to make my way over to the Cu Chi tunnels with a guide. The tunnel system of Cu Chi made it so painfully obvious how the Americans were at a complete disadvantage in this terrain. The tunnels connected to form an entire Viet Cong village underground. Here the Viet Cong would hide by day, and then slip out in the night to tend to their rice paddies and food stocks, and invade American camps while they were sleeping.
The tunnels are just outside of Saigon, the old American stronghold, and so the constant bombings did a lot to destroy the landscape...despite this they survived. The VC built bamboo ventilator pipes into termite mounds so that the soldiers above ground couldn't possibly discover them, and this kept them alive to have entire village systems underground: banks, artillery storage, dining rooms and bedrooms included. They built booby traps that were horrible and painful, and so impossibly camouflaged.
The guide made it a game, 'could I spot the booby trap?' Right next to my footing, he grabbed me by the shoulders to pull me back. He took a long bamboo spear and tapped once onto the ground. The ground started to spin. It was a mud block cut from the earth about 10 feet long and 6 feet wide, that swung in a complete circle. When the block swung up I could peek inside and see dozens of bamboo pikes sharp and ready to impale anything that fell into that trap. That's just one of the booby traps; they had dozens of different kinds that involved spears through the legs only, sitting traps which would make your entire body fall and crumble to the ground leaving your abdomen its target, spears from above coming for the head and chest...my guide demonstrated how each and every one of them worked....I felt sick.
The tunnels were only barely wide enough to squeeze through. These were designed as booby traps too, so whenever any soldier tried to infiltrate from above he had absolutely no chance of surviving the VC tunnels. These soldiers went blind from living underground, since they lived in complete darkness. I tried to squeeze through one tunnel, and just barely managed to fit. I had to squeeze on my elbows and drag my body lying down to get through. Forget the tight squeeze, the complete darkness too...the claustrophobia would have killed me instantly.
The tunnels, the documentaries, the booby traps and diagrams made me feel so lost. How did this happen? It feels like war is an act of pride and self-righteousness... and it's always one man who starts war, with hundreds and thousands of innocents caught in the crossfire. I don't want to seem unpatriotic, our family is a military family that I'm proud of. I just feel like I've seen and heard enough already--Burma's current civil war, Cambodia's Khmer Rouge genocide, Laos' Hmong fighting the Vietnamese, China's Cultural Revolution, India's muslims and Hindus ancient battle for supremacy, and here...the 'American war' as it's known to the Vietnamese. What's the point of it all?
On to lighter topics now. I'm in Nha Trang now, north of Saigon, and tomorrow I'm off to Hanoi. The only other war stop I want to make on this journey is the prison that held John Mccain as a POW, Hoa lo. I remember reading his bio a long time ago, and I remember hearing details about his time here...so I want to see for myself.
Nha Trang is a beach town and it's absolutely a beautiful distraction. I went paddling around a fishing village yesterday as well we snorkeling the local islands. The reefs here kick Thailand's butt; they're vivid and pulsing with life! But...the trash...it's everywhere. It's impossible to swim without going head first into plastic...I spent more time taking plastic out than enjoying the reefs in the end. I took a boat tour and ended up on a party boat somehow. After lunch, the crew took out electric guitars plugged in to amps that appeared from the belly of the boat, and woks turned upside down from the kitchen to act as makeshift drums. Microphone in hand and singled out from the crowd I had to sing 'Hotel California' since I was the only American on board...I suck at karaoke! My party prize was free beer for the rest of the day...I guess everything turned out alright :)
Tonight it's an overnight train to Hanoi, officially the start of my trip into the North. I'm hoping for cooler temperatures and a decent place for a cooking class, since Vietnamese food is my new obsession! Everything is so fresh and simple that I feel healthier than I've been in ages. I've been living off of fresh seafood every day now, prawns the size of my forearm and squid (which I never knew I loved!), and of course fresh nameless fish--whatever the catch of the day is please!
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