“All men are created equal; they
are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights; among these are
Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”—the first lines of the Vietnamese Declaration of Independence, issued
on September 2, 1945. Sound
familiar?
Journalist John Pilger said in 1978, “I used to see Vietnam as a war rather
than a country.” I think he was
speaking for many of us in my generation of Americans. The key here is “used to.” The sense I have after several days in
Vietnam is that the country is trying very hard, and rather successfully, to
put the decades of war on its soil well into the past. For many stops in Asia, we have received brief tutorials on
local etiquette. For Vietnam, that
included “don’t mention the war unless they do.”
This could be because the friendly Vietnamese people didn’t want to discomfit
the visiting former enemy. It could be that they’d just as soon forget it all
and move forward. Or it could be the fact that 60% of the population is under
age 25, meaning that not only were the majority not yet born at the time of the war, but their
parents likely were at most young children at the time of the U.S. involvement.
Surveys of this young population group in Vietnam have shown that as many as
80% of them have no interest in knowing the country’s history. Is that youth, or is it an urge to get
on with the business of building a thriving nation?
Ho Chi Minh
City, aka Saigon
Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) is still called Saigon by its residents. I am
told that it is only called HCMC by the newspapers or when you are dealing with
the government.
I traversed the four main districts of Saigon by “cylco,” a
one-passenger pedicab operated by a man pedaling a three-wheeled cycle, with
the seat in front. Most of
the drivers seemed to be older—some quite elderly—yet they readily pedaled
these cycloes for lengthy periods. I was part of a “motorcade” of about a dozen
such contraptions, one of which was occupied by a guide who, through a
walkie-talkie, provided a narration.
As we rode through Saigon, we saw such sites as the French-era post
office designed by Mr. Eiffel (of Eiffel Tower fame), the Opera House, the War
Remnants Museum (formerly called the War Crimes Museum, until Americans
starting coming as tourists, though our guide conveniently did not mention
this), and Reunification Palace.
It was this last site where our guide could no longer ignore the war.
Once the site of the French governor’s residence, it became the residence of
Vietnam’s first president after French occupation, and was named Independence
Palace. Then, after the fall of Saigon, it was re-named Reunification Palace
and became a museum. Sitting in
front of it are the North Vietnamese tanks that famously crashed through the
gates of the Palace on April 30, 1975, thus defeating South Vietnam and ending
the war. This edifice could hardly be pointed out without mentioning that bit
of history.
The most fascinating part of Saigon was simply seeing day-to-day
life. Traffic is massive, even in
the middle of the day. There seem to be few traffic rules—red lights exist, but
are obeyed only at a few particularly busy intersections. The road is shared by cars, trucks,
pedicabs, bicycles, and a vast sea of motor scooters. I am told that, in this city of 10 million people, there are
7 million motor scooters. And I’d
swear they were all in downtown Saigon that day. And many of them carried multiple people and/or large loads
of cargo. One person got a photo
of two people on a scooter carrying a full-height refrigerator.
Crossing a street in Saigon is an art. Essentially, you just go at an even pace and trust that
traffic will swerve around you.
And it does. The biggest
mistake you can make is to stop.
The drivers seem to know how to gauge your pace and adjust accordingly.
Horns are sounded, but not in an aggressive way. Instead, the horn is
used gently to make someone aware of one’s presence.
While driving in the western world is sometimes used as an act of
dominance, driving in Vietnam seems more an act of cooperation.
As is true everywhere else we went in Asia, shop fronts open fully
onto the street, and the street, sidewalk, and shops all seem to merge into one
activity. People shop for food every day, so that fresh fish, produce, and meat
are sold all over, so that people can pick up their supplies on the way home.
I was struck by how clean Saigon was for a city of 10 million. Yes, there was trash around the
riverfront, particularly near abandoned-looking squatter shanties, but there
was virtually no litter in other parts of the city, prosperous and poor.
And Saigon is building.
Skyscrapers abound—often right next to older buildings—and there is a
growing “Wall Street” financial district.
Vietnam is still a communist country, but it loosened the leash on
private ownership some time ago, and entrepreneurship abounds today.
Hue
After a couple of days in Saigon, our ship moved north to Chan May,
the jumping-off point to go inland to the ancient city of Hue.
This is where the taboo on discussing the war seemed oddest. I spend much of the day at the Imperial
Palace and Citadel, with a 24-year-old guide who was able to detail the 300+
years of the Palace as the center of the capital of the Nguyen dynasty and the
fall of the dynasty to French rule.
Yet, not a word was mentioned about the ferocious fighting that took
place here, particularly during the Tet offensive of 1968, nor of the very
visible damage to several of the structures that resulted (and most certainly
not of the many deaths that resulted).
One of the odder sights in Hue is the tomb of Tu Duc, one of the last
emperors of Vietnam. It is quite
elaborate, and a lovely park where families come to picnic. It’s just that Tu
Duc’s body is not here, and never has been. Fearing that his body would be desecrated by his enemies,
much as Tu’s ancestors had desecrated their ancestors’ bodies, his body was
buried elsewhere in secret. To
this day, no one knows where he was buried, particularly as the 2,000 men who
buried him were all immediately beheaded so that they could never reveal the
secret.
Ha Long Bay
For our last day in Vietnam, I had the choice of a long bus trip to
Hanoi, or taking a leisurely junk trip around beautiful Ha Long Bay. Given the previous day’s long jaunt to
Hue, I opted for the gorgeous bay.
Despite the rainy day (which, by the way, is the first rainy day in
port I’ve had on this trip), the boat trip was wonderful. The legendary granite formations around
the bay lived up to their fabulous reputation. In many ways, the rain made it
all the better, as it showed the outcroppings in a variety of lights and
shades. It was a lovely way to say
farewell to the surprisingly hospitable nation of Vietnam.
Next up: Hong Kong
No comments:
Post a Comment