Neverland

Maserati's, Ferrari's, yachts, personal helicopters, the highest per capita rate of Rolls Royce's, that's Hong Kong, a place with lots of big boys with big toys. If living in Hong Kong is my version of Never Neverland then that makes Will Peter Pan. And 'Peter' took a trip to Saigon about a month ago. It's unlikely that my story telling capabilities will do justice to the events that unravelled during the course of our three day visit to the epicenter of Vietnam's War with America but I'll go on. For the history buffs, war veterans and baby boomers who give this entry a read, please forgive my glossed-over summary of the war. Here goes:


Saigon served as the base of the American forces during the Vietnam war and as a result suffered many casualties. Thus the city contains numerous memorials including a very graphic and powerful war museum as well as the Cu Chi Tunnels, which much like the German concentration camps, have been turned into tourist sites. Tourists can visit the Cu Chi Tunnels at one of two places - Ben Dihn (B1 for ease) which is in as-is condition since the war and Ben Duco (B2) - which has been restored. Both sites allow guests to walk/crawl through the tunnels and fire AK-47's, among other weapons that the 'evil American enemy' used to unsuccessfully take down the will and hearts of the Viet Cong. B2 also allows visitors the option of dressing as Guerrillas while touring the site. Choosing which site to visit was a bit confusing. The were both approximately 1 hour from downtown Saigon, and while the hotel could arrange a car to take us to B2, our guide book mentioned it was a bit like an 'amusement park' and not as authentic a section. Personally, I didn't care either way, I just wanted to check the box and see the site. Will on the other hand, agonized over the decision. Partly because he wanted to pay fair tribute to Dudley's efforts in 'Nam and partially because he can nit-pick over the smallest decision to his hearts content. Several times he mentioned that he 'really didn't' want to go to B2, 'it sounded lame and he wasn't into dressing up in guerrilla gear.' Fine, neither was I - and I didn't really care to shoot a semi-automatic weapon either. We talked about it in Hong Kong, then on our flight, then at breakfast on Saturday, again Saturday afternoon and after we had finally arranged for a trip to B1 (the more legit site) and once more on Sunday morning before we departed. The constant harping on the guerrilla gear had me wondering what was going through his mind but I figured he couldn't be making that mistake. No. Will wasn't thinking that tourists were dressing up as King Kong and running around a powerful war memorial that recognizes the death of hundreds of thousands of soldiers, civilians, women and children, fearlessly beating their hairy costumed chests, in 90 degree heat. That confusion was impossible. So I let it go....until he mentioned it one more time and I had to ask if he was thinking visitors were dressed in GORILLA COSTUMES as opposed to GUERRILLA WARFARE GEAR and by the stunned look on his face, I knew the answer...

(photo courtesy of BJ Scarritt)

The Last Stop was Vietnam

Waiting in line is never fun. Space Mountain during Spring Break. Mid-Vail Quad during MLK’s Birthday weekend. The White House tour with two impatient cousins under the age of 10. Tough lines all, but none of these compare to the Sunday wait to visit the Communist Crypt of “Uncle Ho”, the Father of Vietnamese freedom himself, Ho Chi Minh.

How long was this line you ask? The easiest way to answer this question would be to say it took us an hour and half, and we were moving the entire time. Two miles is my honest belief, though Heather claims without our mental faculties fully available, on account of the 97 degree heat, we’ll truly never know. No cameras were allowed near the grounds so we can’t even resort to photographic evidence. What is clear is that the line started in one part of the city, and then proceeded at the direction of sporadically placed military officials through parking lots, backyards, marching grounds, and metal detectors. At one point our section was almost taken out by a tour bus backing up, but no one seemed to notice. After that much time in the sun, your mind convinces you that what you’re doing is an important use of the precious hours left in Hanoi, and nothing can deny your forward progress. The group ahead of us spoke French, and by the end of our wait I was fluent. I grew a beard, and Heather went through 3 pairs of flip flops. It was long I tell you. The worst part is, and the greatest irony of all, the Vietnamese have zero understanding of the concept of a line. It’s like some carry over affect of Communism where everyone is viewed as one equal mass, and to order things would be too capitalistic. I can’t emphasize enough how infuriated I started to become as local after local would leave their place, walk 50 feet ahead, and then drift back into line grinning the entire time. Hey it’s their country, and we inflicted massive damage to them over a 10 year conflict, so I could rationalize it as penance. But payback really is a bitch.

The bigger question was why were we actually doing this, and to this I have no acceptable answer. After an hour and a half of miserable queu, we had 10 seconds to walk by the crypt. Apparently for some, it is a very powerful experience, whereby they are overcome with spiritual awakening upon viewing the great father. Ho Chi Minh did rally the Vietnamese people to evict the colonial occupiers, so he is worthy of reverence on the one hand. But we were operating on a much lower plane, and really were just curious how they kept his hair from falling out after 38 years. Truthfully, seeing the preserved body of a dead man made me sort of sick to my stomach. I still can’t eat soft fruit without thinking of Ho's waxy exterior.

Did I mention that we were in Hanoi before we got sidetracked on the million man march? Hanoi was the second leg of our Vietnam excursion which was done over two weekends in July with Saigon being the first stop two weekends prior. As there so often is amongst the traveling set, of which I now humbly consider myself a member, fierce debate surrounds the “best” places to visit in particular countries. One such debate commonly thrown around is whether Saigon or Hanoi is the preferable stop in Vietnam. Obviously the best answer is to see them both, but if pressed we came away with Hanoi as our clear favorite. Saigon is the commercial hub, and birthplace of the new emerging Vietnam much in the way Mumbai is for India. These are exciting places to visit, but my feeling is that the city is often times racing to keep up with the people. More sprawl, construction, and general growing pains. Where a place like Hanoi is more secure in its history, and therefore provides a clearer sense of place; its evolving, but at a much more orderly pace. We really enjoyed the French Colonial vibe with its teeming café culture, art galleries, and open green spaces. The food we found to be inferior to Saigon overall, and there was not as much “war history”, but this was a nice break after Saigon where we got a lot of that (tunnels of Cu Chi, American War Museum). The Sofitel Metropole (not to be confused with the other Sofitel in town), where unfortunately we could not book a room, is one of the more charming hotels I have ever set foot in. It’s a real colonial hold over, and has that classic feel where one half expects to see Humphrey Bogart in the corner hanging over the piano asking Sam to "play it again". Little bit nicer than our Hotel where Heather had to ask Ho Jr. to take the morning buffet eggs and "heat it again," but we had a great location in the quainter part of town so we made it work. The people in Vietnam also bear mention as they were exceptionally warm and friendly especially given what they have been through in the past 75 years. It is an interesting demographic where women occupy an almost equal role in business as men, and 60% of the population is under the age of 30.

Saigon

Art industry

French Colonial Architecture

Down time with a wax soldier at the Cu Chi Tunnels

Scooter Scary

Hanoi

Hoan Keim Lake

Lunch, dinner ... or both

A Total Bust

Those of you worried that we'd been blown away to Mainland China need not fret any longer. We're still here, staring down the face of a lame level 3 typhoon. Much like back home, the media here is all hype delivering a lot of talk about would be weather and little actual stormage. A level 3 typhoon is basically your average rainy day with perhaps a spot or two of flash flooding in the low lying areas next to the harbour. It's pretty basic and pretty boring. Will dutifully crept off to work this morning (I could see the disappointment on his face) leaving me alone in the shoebox to type in the bliss of a peace and quiet that is augmented only by the soothing sound of falling raindrops. The meteorologist in me will be rather disappointed if I'm not able to report on a real typhoon for you before the year is out.

mushrooms at market

the ubiquitous corner store

Typhoon Threat Level 1

I walked into my building lobby this afternoon, amidst sunny skies and sweltering heat, to find a Typhoon Warning Level 1 prominently displayed on a board in front of the elevator. Since Wan Dick's cleaning crew does such a thorough job scrubbing down every nook and cranny of this shiny new building on a daily basis I figured one of the cleaners had temporarily relocated the sign in front of the 'lift' while windexing its usual home and decided to investigate further by calling my ever-knowledgeable husband who is surrounded by even more knowledgeable people at the office. To my dismay Will confirmed that indeed a severe typhoon warning is in effect - with an excepted Warning Level of 8 to mount by tomorrow - that's 8 on a scale of 1 t0 10. To the transplanted Westerner this does not bear much significance except that anything above 7 means no one goes to work. Aside from a few bouts of severe stomach upset due to questionable cuisine, Asia hasn't thrown me anything I can't handle - torrential rain and gale force winds: check (Hurricane Gloria anyone?); back breaking sweat and nausea inducing humidity: not unlike DC. So looking Mother Nature in the eye and waiting to see what she brings, what's my real fear? I wonder what the Albatross and I will do while stuck inside our 800 square foot apartment for eight plus hours with a chess board and no t.v. We'll see what ensues.

Severe Tropical Storm PABUK

at 11:00 HKT 08 August 2007

(22.3 N, 117.9 E)