To see what I could see

It’s a wrap- I’m back in the real world, at least as I know it. The jet lag will remind me for a few days. My goal today is to stay up until at least 8 pm.

Except for the time it takes to get there and back, I found Vietnam easy for travel. That’s not to say it’s always simple, but the courtesy and helpfulness of everyone I interacted with, whether they were going to make any money off me or not, was unflagging. Their civility extends to each other as well. I was in awe of their ability to get along on city streets choked with traffic, their small courtesies before beginning a transaction, and how safe I felt. It’s the kind of place where you can pull your phone out in public and wander around with it, you can show your money to a shopkeeper and they will pick out only what is owed, and when a price is quoted, that is the price (with the exception of taxis).

Things that stood out beyond the every day civility I encountered: the food, coffee in more forms than I knew were possible, floating markets, not-floating markets, rice fields, hidden narrow streets in the cities, the ease of getting a Grab anytime, all come to mind. I’m sure I’m forgetting some things already.

I tried to select some of my favorite photos, although some are favorites more because of the memory they evoke than the shot itself. Thank you for reading along with me.

By 11:30 am, it was 91 degrees and humid, and still getting warmer.  I am spending my last day here wandering yet again,  for now in Cholon. Cholon began as a settlement of Chinese who migrated to the area during the 18th century, in part to escape retribution by a rival faction. The city itself was originally about 11 km from then-Saigon, but now there is no way to tell when one ends and the other begins if you don’t know. Cholon is Ho Chi Minh’s Chinatown, and reportedly is one of the largest in the world.

Because of the heat and distance,  I took a Grab to the Ten Thousand Buddha Pagoda as a jumping off point. It did not disappoint. The fifth floor has the Buddha for which it is named,  but each floor has its own.  It appears there are monks living here. Their living quarters and what appear to be areas for study can be seen off the main area. No photos there of course.

I walked for hours, stopping every now and then for a coffee, or lunch, or any excuse for the use of a toilet and some AC until I’d recovered just a bit, then off again to soak in all that I can.

I mentioned in my prior post that I was having difficulty getting photos loaded on WordPress. So much for my freeloading days, I’ve had to pay for more storage and we’re back at it. Yesterday after the floating market, we went up a quiet river or inlet of some kind. I felt like I was in the Louisiana bayous, although I’ve never been.

We stopped in at a noodle factory, which felt a little gimmicky, but who am I to judge? Sal told me what plants were used to create the colors in the noodles. The only one that I remember for sure is that the yellow is made using turmeric root. I got to try picking up the freshly cooked rice noodle and depositing it on the rack as this man is doing. Needless to say, mine was a little wrinkly, and was saved only by this man’s interference.

Then we stopped at what Sal said is the largest market in Can Tho, and wandered a bit, dodging motorbikes constantly. There were all the vegetables, fruit, various kinds of meat and a lot of fish. I saw live and butchered frogs, eel, snakes, even butchered rats. I tried to keep the horror from my face at that knowledge. Sal told me he eats all of these things. Snakes are an expensive treat. I’ve seen durian at all the markets, but haven’t had the chance to try it yet. So many kinds of rice! Sal explained the uses of some of them, which I promptly forgot.

Then Sal saw the ice cream bicycle and so we had a treat before getting back on the boat to go home.

Aside from a less than comfortable 3 hour bus ride, the journey from Hanoi in the north of Vietnam through Ho Chi Minh, and on to Can Tho in the Mekong Delta, the journey was smooth. I worried when I saw the ‘limousine’ van we were to ride in, and I got grumpy when the person in the seat in front of me dropped her seat back into my lap. The guy across from me commiserated in words I didn’t understand. When we stopped for a rest break, I asked the driver about getting dropped in the town center instead of at the bus company’s office, now understanding that it was a bit of a distance. He wasn’t interested in my questions, but another passenger intervened and negotiated with him. I finally left them to it and ran to the toilet, not wanting to miss the opportunity. But sure enough, when we got near to the city, the passenger turned back to me and suggested I get dropped at some unknown point on the map, as it would be closer. It turned out all the others were getting off there anyway. I booked a Grab and he was there before I could put my phone away.

This city lights up at night.

My room has a kitchen, not that I’m going to cook while here. It also has a washing machine in the hall that I am free to use.

I had booked a tour for early today on the river, so I had to go in search of an ATM and food. The ATM turned out to be harder than expected, and it was getting late for a 4:30 am wake up, so I skimped on dinner and went back to do a load of laundry and get organized for the next day.

I walked out into the darkness this morning to find Sal waiting for me. We took his motorbike to the pier, where we met the boat captain, and off we went. It was pretty magical watching the day break as we motored down river.

About 40 minutes later, we arrived at the floating market. Sal said that the local street and store sellers come here to buy wholesale from the boats. Now, of course, there’s also the tourist trade. We ate a noodle dish and drank our coffee, both purchased from the boats that Sal knew to look for.

Most of the boats have these long poled propellers, and from time to time later in the smaller river, our captain had to stop and unwrap some plastic that had gotten wound round the propellers.

Each boat puts up a long pole with the item or items they have for sale tied to it, so buyers know who to approach. The regular sales start around 3 am, so a lot of that was already done when we arrived, although not quite all.

Sal said that the boat sellers go up river and buy from growers, then come down to these markets for a couple weeks. Then they repeat that process, living on their boats.

I love the sights, sounds, smells and all of what makes a market. People roll up on their scooters, and never even have to alight for the short transaction. The meat stand operators cut the meat up however you want it as you wait. It’s hard to be a gawker here, because many times you are walking in the road or the gutter, alongside scooters, cars and bikes. The sidewalk is often blocked by rows of parked scooters or vendors with their wares. Horns honk incessantly, and the number one rule is, don’t veer or hesitate. Despite the chaos, riders and drivers will yield to pedestrians, albeit very much last minute and with a few inches to spare. At least in market and shopping areas, there is no such thing as a casual stroll.

I sometimes asked what something was if for no other reason than to engage. It was usually unsuccessful with respect to getting a name, but I am not likely to remember it anyway. This particular stand, the woman’s answer was ‘oleander’.

At another point, I was musing out loud, since it was clear the stand-keeper was not going to respond. I was standing at the edge of the road, because the sidewalk was consumed by the food stands. A woman passing very closely on her scooter was pausing for traffic, and she responded. She told me the name of the root in Thai, and said she is Thai, and explained very briefly how it is used in their cuisine. I said thank you, and she drove away. I’m no more the wiser, but the interaction was lovely.

And more from my wanderings today in the Ngoc Ha neighborhood. I took a Grab to the general vicinity and then wandered for hours in the small lanes. There were some dead ends involved.

I actually started my wanderings with a visit to the Women’s Museum, which covers a lot of traditional customs specific to a woman’s role. Some societies in what is now Vietnam were matrilineal, and it was interesting to note that in at least one of them, the youngest daughter is the one who inherits.

Everywhere one goes here, there are reminders of the French occupation, and on the heels of that, the American War. As I wandered today, I ran across, quite by accident, this enduring reminder of what it was to live in a war zone. I didn’t get a great photo of the actual wreckage in the water, at first not quite believing what it was.

One floor of the Women’s Museum covers women who were warriors, activists, heroes. Yesterday I was moved to tears in the Maison Centrale, and today this photo was near the end of the exhibit. I have nothing new to add on the subject of the horrors of war, subjugation and colonialism. This mama’s face tells all.