"This Doesn't Suck"

When you think of Vietnam, you probably think of a country ravaged by war. The first thing I think of is refugees. In my neighborhood in the Bronx, there is a huge Vietnamese population living around University Avenue. The Roman Catholic church I used to attend as a kid on the corner of Fordham and University even offered services in Vietnamese. In the late 90s, I remember having some Vietnamese classmates in elementary school, and then an influx of Albanian refugees came in as well and eventually overshadowed that population. Mixed in with the incredibly dense Hispanic population in my neighborhood from places like Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and Mexico, I can only wonder now whether this early exposure to immigrants (including myself), and especially displaced peoples, has influenced my current interest in diasporic movement and refugee health. But that’s a story for another day.

Now when you think of Ho Chi Minh City, you think of a town conquered by the wrath of communism. C’mon, it was renamed after the North’s communist leader. Nothing says conquest more than naming a place after yourself. Just ask Alexander the Great. Pulling into the city via the Saigon River, there was a sense of uncertainty of what I would find once on land. Coming from America, images of poor, suffering, and powerless farmers come to mind; when thinking about the war, my mind conjured up even more somber things. In short, it was an incredibly pleasant surprise. And it doesn’t suck. More on that in a sec.

If you asked me a few years from now what I would remember about my time in Vietnam, I would probably sum it up as thus: it was an incredibly cheap place with delicious food, friendly people, and remarkable history.

The exchange rate for Vietnamese currency to the US Dollar was roughly 20,000 dong to 1, so with 50 bucks, you’d be a millionaire. For this reason, the US Dollar was often preferred by merchants, though I was slightly entertained by the notion of being a multi-millionaire. I was told before getting to Vietnam that you could probably bargain anything down to a dollar, and so I saw the country as one big 99-cent store. Don’t be surprised if all of your souvenirs come from here. Some of the gems I got were a custom made pair of red trousers with a pink-and-purple paisley shirt for $25 and a whole bunch of Tiger Beer tank tops for roughly $2 a pop.

As for food, I ate non-stop. Not only did I eat for incredibly cheap on a small residential corner sitting in children-sized plastic furniture (google “The Lunch Lady”), I ate at some of the most high-class restaurants in the city for not much more. More the most part, I was stuffed with soups filled with unidentifiable parts and whole garden full of herbs. More often than not, my meal was accompanied by a strong cup of Vietnamese iced coffee sweetened with condensed milk.

The people were incredibly sweet. After establishing that I was American (since many would start speaking to me in Vietnamese thinking that I was a local taking my white friends around), I often got an even more excited and warm response. For a reason I still don’t understand, Vietnamese people love Americans. On the first morning, we ran into a group of students in the park who were part of an English language club who wanted us to partake in their language practice. Somehow, we also participated in a video with another handful of students who were doing a school project. Even better, though, was stumbling upon a communist youth rally celebrating the anniversary of the group’s founding. We were pulled into the action as if we knew what was going on, and it may have been one of the most fun things I did while in Saigon.

I can’t forget the ever-important history which has led us to this point. The Vietnam War, otherwise known as the American War, was only a few decades ago, and there is still clear remnants of that conflict. It was not uncommon to see people with missing or deformed limbs rolling around on skateboards. I knew that I had to do some historical trips while in Vietnam, and that urge was fulfilled by a visit to the Cu Chi Tunnels, an elaborate network of underground walkways used during the war. From watching a really interesting documentary film, talking to the tour guide, and crawling through the tiny tunnels, it finally hit me that this war was real, and with any conflict, there are two (or more) equally valid interpretations. Since the country was once under French rule, a legacy of colonization is evident throughout the city either in architecture, language, or a multitude of other things; the bánh mì is a perfect example. The sandwich made of a delicate French baguette is filled with both traditional Vietnamese meats and herbs with a slathering of colonial condiments and flavorings.

My time in Vietnam was chock-full of different experiences. I was able to sail down the Mekong Delta for a tour using five modes of transportation (three different types of boats, horsedrawn buggy, and bicycle) seeing a contrast between a livelihood very dependent on the river and the bustling city life a few miles away. I got a haircut which made me look like Vietnamese superstar. I pushed my way through the narrow walkways of the Ben Thanh Market and watched the night market set up right around it as I ate my dinner. More than once, I went to a bar called ‘Apocalypse Now’ (like the legendary film about the Vietnam War) which was an enclave for prostitutes, ex-pats, and misfits in a slightly awkward space where the fans were made to look like the propellers for helicopters painted on the ceiling.

One of the days in Saigon, my friends and I ran into an older businessman, a hilarious and sassy man from the United States who was in the country for some kind of consulting job. He was sent for six months to do a job that he completed in a few days, so he was just wandering around for the remainder of his stay. Though he had only been there for a few days more than we had, he gave us some very funny insight about Vietnam. First of all, he advised us to explore. If you see something you think is interesting, check it out. It’s a simple concept, but I think that some of us stray away from our instincts to take risks and discover because we are scared of the unknown. Secondly, he took the words out of my mouth as he explained his experience so far. As peculiar as everything may be to us, he summed it up simply and perfectly: “This doesn’t suck.”

On my last day, on the way back to the ship, I decided to take a motorcycle taxi back. For two bucks, I sat on the back of this dude's motorcycle, put on a helmet, and went along for the ride. The motorcycle is the preferred mode of transport for the Vietnamese; a family of four (+cargo) on a single bike was not a peculiar sight. As we rolled along through the streets of Saigon under the glorious sunset, I realized that this was the way most people saw this city. Dodging pedestrians, with the constant whirring of the engine, there was a kind of solace that I found while on the back of the motorbike. It was a perfect ending.

To say the least, Vietnam was interesting. It was invigorating. It was inspirational. And, indeed, it didn’t suck.