Voluble Vietnam

I chose this particular alliteration for my second week in Vietnam because I spent a lot of time talking with my friends and with the lovely people I met on my final tour of southern Vietnam to the Mekong Delta. Especially since my final week was slightly marred by the run-in with that motorbike, the Lord God really showed himself faithful in providing extra support and fellowship for me at a time that could have been a little discouraging.

Weekend in HCMC

I returned from Hue via plane, which was so convenient albeit more expensive than I planned to spend (good thing I am thrifty in other respects: I still maintained my budget!) I met this lovely Australian/Filipina couple in Hoi An who told me that they had seen me in HCMC then in Dalat and finally we met in Hoi An. They were taking the exact same route as I was, including the flight back to HCMC on Saturday. It was a blessing to meet them for a couple of reasons. One, they had some great stories to share and were all around lovely people. And two, we shared a taxi on the way back to District One and they paid for it! How wonderful to have those surprisingly wonderful encounters with genuine people.

I had planned to stay in a dorm room that I found in the Lonely Planet, but it has closed since the writing of the book according to a motorbike driver I met. (I was unable to locate it according to where it said it should be on the map, so I figured he was telling the truth.) He told me of another place that had 5-7 USD rooms and pointed me in the right direction, asking also if I wanted a ride. I said, “How much?” He replied with, “How much would you give me?” I thought that was fair: give the driver what you think is fair and what the ride is worth to the passenger. I made a deal with him. I said that if the room was less than 7 USD I would pay him, but if not, he would have to take me back because I knew of a place within walking distance that was 7 USD. He agreed and I trusted him to follow through on the arrangement. True to his word, he found me a place where I was able to negotiate 15 USD for three nights. It was a nice enough place, but I discovered that the room I was in had absolutely no ventilation, meaning the fan had little to no effect on cooling the room. (It was a rotating fan, so in a dad-approved manner, I jerry-rigged the fan to remain in one place—blowing only on me at night—by placing one of the hard-as-a-rock pillows behind the fan, which prevented it from moving!)

The greatest thing about having friends in a place with which you are unfamiliar is that they give you the best “local” tour. Granted, I did not visit any of the “significant” or tourist sites in HCMC, but I did taste a lot of local food and I saw how Vietnamese people live, joke around, sleep and eat. That was invaluable. After all, city sites can blend together quite easily, but local traditions remain much more distinct in my mind. My favorite part of the local fare was sugar cane juice. They press big sticks of fresh sugar cane into either hand-operated presses, which usually presses the sugar cane about 10 times folded every which way to get the last drop of juice out of the cane, or electric presses, which leave a lot of juice in the cane but are faster and less strenuous. Anyway, these presses are everywhere except the downtown area. If you ride around on a motorbike, you would notice these presses and the husks of the empty sugar cane littering the sidewalk with its fibers. Yum! On my last night with my friends, they grabbed some sugar cane juice without me even asking! They read my mind probably knowing it quickly became my favorite thing while in Vietnam—though I was hesitant at first to try it.

Mekong Delta

On Monday—the day after the mugging—I went on a full day tour to the Mekong Delta. I wanted to buy a disposable camera so I could capture the beauty of the Delta, which I heard was exceptional. This was actually a long-awaited trip, as the Mekong Delta was one of those things I had really wanted to see and experience. Come to find out, Vietnam does not produce digital cameras, so I thought I was up a creek, but the Lord really blessed me and put three fabulous Filipino girls who loved taking pictures. Of course, they are on Facebook, so they promised me they would post all the pictures they took of our journey. We became fast friends and stuck together like glue for the day. It really enhanced the tour and made the Delta come alive. Here are some Mekong River facts: It touches six countries (starting in Tibet, then continuing to Burma, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia). It is 4,880 kilometers long, which is 80 kilometers longer than they had measured only ten years ago (apparently, they now say that the Amazon River is the longest river in the world, longer than the Nile by 10 or 20 kilometers!). Finally, each country gives the Mekong a different name, so the name by which we call it in English is actually the international name and sometimes unrecognizable to the locals (as was the case with my friends who were confused when I kept saying the Mekong Delta).

I decided to spend three days in the Mekong, taking a one-day tour, going back to Saigon at night, and another two-day-one-night tour, which covered different places and allowed me to experience a little more of the simple and tranquil culture down in the southernmost part of Vietnam. On the first day, we took a bus from Saigon to the Mekong City, which is the jumping off point for many of the tours, and where we grabbed our boat that ferried the whole group to several places, including our lunch site, a place where they made coconut candy, and the largest bee farm in the Delta area. The tour was really good with lots of free tastes and good food with the opportunity to try the specialty of the Delta: elephant ear fish, which tasted kind of bland. Again, it was great to be with the Filipino girls and their relatives who purchased one fish, which they insisted I try, and in the Filipino fashion, you cannot really refuse food. After trying delicious tropical fruit, of which I definitely had my fill, we took small Vietnamese gondolas through this picturesque passageway, and we wore the traditional Vietnamese conical hats, which was so fun. It was really interesting to see that it was primarily the women—fully covered so that not one inch of sunlight would touch their skin—who rowed these small four-person boats.
Since the first day was so good and the people I met were so nice, I was really looking forward to the next day, hoping I would meet some equally nice people although content if I didn’t. I checked out of my hotel and I was happy to leave that area, knowing that I would be staying with my friends the final two nights in Saigon. No one sat next to me on the bus, so I put my iPod in and settled in for the ride, but upon arrival, I noticed what looked like a three-person group and decided that might be a good “in” for making friends. Come to find out two of the women were Chinese and were traveling together, but the other girl was from Hong Kong and was traveling by herself. We connected instantly—all three of us in fact! The other solo traveler and I formed a great rapport with one another, which worked to our advantage in that we roomed together that night and that was lovely.

The two-day tour was organized a little bit different and again, it was really a blessing to have great company. You can pretend for a little while that you are traveling in a group, which keeps my appreciation high for solo travel :) The itinerary was similar as the one-day tour, there was just two times as much. I saw the biggest floating market—Cai Rang—in the Delta, which is nothing much except locals buying and selling fruits and vegetables, transferring the produce from the big boats to the smaller boats. I learned something very interesting: the way to know what is being sold on a particular boat is to look at the bamboo pole sticking up in the air, from which is hanging some type of fruit of vegetable or even a conical hat or coconut frond, informing everyone that boat is for sale. Even though the market was not as big as I had thought, it was truly mesmerizing, in that we tourists were transported to one of the most important activities for the local Delta people. Since the Delta is one of the most fecund area of Vietnam, farming and the sale of produce dominates the commercial activity. Of course, there were some enterprising people selling breakfast from their boats—full noodle dishes and everything from the boat—and also some selling cold drinks to the tourist boats. We languidly explored the area, getting our fill of the local life. I think the local people are very used to the tourist boats roaming the waters, which were visible but by no means overwhelming, because they only casually glanced at us or smiled and waved, which felt very welcoming and created a special bond between onlooker and participator.

The first day we had a nice lunch and traditional music show where I really enjoyed the instrumental music and tolerated the singing, which sounded to my ears more like screeching than melodic tones. The meaning, when translated for us, was bucolic and reminiscent of days gone by, emphasizing the natural beauty of the setting and familial love. On our boat rides, we would pass villagers, most of whom would wave, and the little kids would wave and yell out “Hello!” It was the cutest thing and made me smile every time to see these little and precious urchins utter a phrase in a language they could not understand but somehow realizing it was the language these strange people comprehend. (Of course, not all the tourists were native English speakers, but the tour was in English and Vietnamese, so the French and the Dutch people I met also needed to know English to understand, which they did.)

We spent the night in Can Tho (pronounced Cun Ta) at a nice one-star hotel that had air-conditioning in the room. (I really appreciated it this time around since I had just spent the last three nights in an oven.) My new friends and I took a walk around the town and enjoyed the river a little more, which was full of activity—vendors, touts, and foreign tourists and locals—and settled into a nice little restaurant that served cheap Vietnamese food. I had eaten so much during the day that I only had a strong iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk, which had almost become a daily drink. After buying some fruit from the street-side vendors, we headed back to the hotel where my roommate and I enjoyed the evening swapping stories of travel. She gave me a ton of recommendations for my trip to Hong Kong, where I am right now. What a timely meeting!

When we parted ways after tour, she said that she was really sad to see me go, as she said that she felt a special connection with me. She said that in Cantonese the word she would use is “yune,” which means special affiliation. I thought that was really sweet and I agreed, again feeling blessed that God had provided someone so wonderful to take part in my travel journey.

Final Day in HCMC

My friend’s sister came to pick me up from the tour agency and we went back to her place, which is outside of HCMC, around one-hour journey from the center where the agency is located. Here is a good analogy for how long it takes to go places. Imagine the suburbs of a big city—I think of Chicago, but it could apply to anywhere—and how it can take you as long to get from the center of the city to one of the southwest suburbs as it takes to go 60 miles or so on empty country roads. You may only be going less than 30 miles, but the traffic, congestion and general engineering of compact, metropolitan areas prevent you from really making much headway in a reasonable amount of time. The trouble, though, being on a motorbike while carrying a 40 pound pack is that the pressure from the pack eats into your bottom and creates resistance to the normal forward-moving inertia of a motor vehicle. Oh, well, it was a memorable experience to cart my backpack across, over, under and around HCMC!

It was so nice to be in someone’s home again. Even though I really love traveling, seeing the different sights, experiencing the dissimilar—same, same but different, in the Asian manner of speaking English—cultures, but moving from endless hotel to hotel is a little wearisome. There is nothing better than intermingling hotel stays with good old fashion family time with friends. My friends’ family fed me a lovely salad and fried bread with egg that was so delicious, I was instantly full, and they gave me the only room in the house, which is where the parents usually sleep, so I felt very honored that they would make that sacrifice. Before we went to bed, we read the Bible together, and I felt very blessed that my friend spoke first in English and then her sister translated. They really arranged everything to make me feel welcome. Times like those really negate all bad events that could and do arrive.

My final day in HCMC was spent in a calm and almost sleepy progression of waking up, visiting a fruit orchard where you pay to enter and can eat all you want—jack fruit and rambutan—as long as you want. We ate until we were stuffed, then took a nap underneath one of the trees that provided a canopy of shade from the sun. This was a nice arrangement because there was no electricity at the house, meaning no fans or anything to cool down from the heat. We escaped the heat of the day under our fruit tree. Leaving around lunchtime, we returned to the house for a scrumptious lunch (my friends’ parents are amazing cooks and really accommodate my vegetarian diet) and another nap and relaxation as we watched s big storm roll in and reduce the temperature about 20 degrees F. We later got caught in that weather, but at the moment, under the shelter of the roof, I thoroughly enjoyed the breeze the rain brought in.

I took a shower before leaving, which has become my habit: three times a day—morning, afternoon, and night before bed—I shower, if possible. We were going to dinner at the home of a pastor I met while in the Philippines. He is now 73 years old, still drives a motorbike and is as cheerful and loving as ever. Whenever I meet with elderly people, I feel such a bond with them. I am glad that I will be going back to a job where I can care for them although it is the healthy ones with whom I really like to interact. Anyway, this pastor has such an amazing story to share: he became a Christian when he was 13, and his father disowned him although he continued to live in his home until his mother died when he was 18 or 19. After getting kicked out of the house, he enlisted in the army, fighting with the French and then the Americans against the Communists, which I found fascinating. Come to find out, his brother, who maintained excellent relations with his father and family in promulgating a traditionally accepted religion—ancestor worship, Buddhism, or atheism—is a big wig in the Communist party. So that makes sense as to why he fought with the other side.
What I loved most about talking with him, via a translator, was the passion with which he spoke. Love shone through his eyes when he spoke about Jesus and the Holy Spirit and when he talked of how God had preserved him all these years, even during the times when he was under house arrest —which he managed to breech with seemingly few problems—for gathering with a large group of believers. His philosophy on living a life for Jesus and raising a family were truly beautiful. My heart was soaking it all in. His wife prepared a delectable feast for us, and I had a nice conversation with his daughter who is continuing her fellowship with Jesus with the same passionate yet simple fervor as her father. This elderly man with his soft features and easygoing manners was truly an inspiration to me, and in the hour and a half that I fellowshipped with him, I learned many things that I will treasure and hopefully employ as time and circumstance allow. How fortunate to be halfway across the world in the presence of a child of God such as this pastor! What blessing. That’s what I value about traveling: learning that even in the most unlikely circumstances you can find people who share your heart or teach you things that you had never before considered and realizing that distance means little and the spirit means everything.