When I finally arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (hereafter to be referred to as what everyone besides the government calls it... Saigon) from Bangkok on Wednesday of last week, I had a bit of a frustrating experience. The directions from the hostel said to take an airport taxi and then listed two names. I thought it would be a sort of shuttle bus so that is what I was searching for. It turns out it was the name of two legitimate companies. When I finally gave up on finding a bus, I took one of the touts up on his offer of a cab. I had no idea the going rate so when he quoted 400,000 Dong ($19.00) I came back with 300,000 Dong and we agreed on 350,000 ($16.50). However, he then handed me off to another driver who led me toward the parking lot instead of one of the cars parked at the curb like I expected. That should have been my first sign to walk away.We get to the taxi, I put my bag in the backseat and the driver goes to start the car. It sputtered a few times before finally turning over. That should have been my second sign to get out. There was no meter, but I wasn't that concerned since we had already agreed on a price. However, as we were going to pull out of the parking lot, he stopped the car and started to say something which I took to mean he wanted me to pay for his parking. I argued with him saying that we had already agreed on a flat rate and I wasn't going to pay for him to leave the lot. Then he tried to show me some sort of tariff card that had the rate of 25 USD listed. He kept pointing at the toll booth and saying something barely intelligible while I kept yelling, "I don't understand what you mean." I realized this was going nowhere fast so that's when I tried to get out of the car. Except the door was locked. When I realized I couldn't get leave, I freaked out and started banging on the window glass yelling, "Let me out!" His response was "You're no good," to which I wanted to answer, "No, you're no good for trying to scam me." Finally as I reached for the door on the other side. he reluctantly released the lock. I got out of the car, hastily grabbed my stuff and started to walk back toward the terminal. He called me back and fortunately was decent enough to return the printout that told me where I needed to go.
A bit scared off from the taxi racket I wandered around for at least another half hour trying to find a bus. Hot and sweaty, I finally gave up and walked up to a taxi on the curb that was thankfully metered. In the end I paid just over 150,000 Dong ($7.00) without any sort of "tariff" or parking fee. I honestly don't think I was ever in any danger, but I was quite clearly trying to be ripped off.
Right after I arrived at my hostel (with one or two more wrong turns after getting out the cab since the hostel was in a small alley) it started to pour down rain. The hostel lent me a big umbrella and I ran out to eat a quick fried rice dinner under a tarp at the place on the corner. I stayed up a little later than planned taking care of some things so I slept in a bit in the morning.
That next morning I made my way by foot through the moto-congested streets of Saigon to the Independence Palace... known since the end of the war as the Reunification Palace. It was all I could do not to get hit by a motorbike on the way as they are absolutely EVERYWHERE, including the sidewalk when they can't jostle for room on the street. They're not supposed to be there, but it doesn't matter. Pedestrians do not have the right of way.The Reunification Palace was the home and workplace of the President of South Vietnam during the Vietnam War. On April 30, 1975, a Viet Cong tank bulldozed through the main gate, thus ending the war. The President was forced to walk out of the palace after surrendering. The eery thing about it is that aside from repairing the broken fence, the North Vietnamese left the building exactly as they found it. That means the style of the decor is kind of Western-influenced mid-70s chic with a hint of Asian flair. There's a really funky half-barrel bar in one room and lots of crazy light fixtures. On one of the roofs is a Russian helicopter, which totally reminded me of the part in "Miss Saigon" where the U.S. chopper takes off from the embassy leaving Kim behind. In fact, I was singing song from the musical in my head all day long. Another really interesting part of the palace is the basement where the President had a complete second bedroom and war room. It was dark and dank and I would not have wanted to work down there.
After leaving the palace I walked over to the War Remnants Museum. I only had a short time before it closed, but I decided to pop in anyway. I had been warned that the museum was a bit biased having been created by the North Vietnamese victors. I learned rather quickly that the conflict was actually called the War of American Aggression and that Americans are evil. I decided to work my way from top to bottom so the first exhibit I went into was actually a rather even-handed photo display that had toured through the U.S. before being donated to the museum. It seemed to be mainly a collection of photos starting with the war with France in the 1950s that were taken by photographers who later died in the battlefield. It was incredibly sad and moving. I only made it halfway through before the museum closed, but thankfully with my ticket I was able to return for free the following day.That night back at my hostel I made friends with my new roommate, Judith, who was from Holland. The next morning we went back together to the War Remnants Museum where we walked through exhibits on Agent Orange, the "war crimes" committed by the enemy and the "Tiger Cages" torture chambers where some North Vietnamese POWs ended up. Now I know that there are two sides to every story and that the U.S. did some pretty awful things, but you would have though that the Viet Cong soldiers didn't even use guns or kill or torture anyone in their efforts to win the war. I guess that's why the say the winner gets to write the history books. I have to say, though, that the worst thing was seeing photos of the victims of Agent Orange. Children in Vietnam are still being born with health defects and deformities two or three generations later. You can see the victims on the streets of Saigon peddling their wares without the ability to walk. I bought gum from one guy who had to scoot around on his butt because it's more than I could bear to watch.
As we were leaving the museum, we met an Israeli-American guy named Shlomie who needed help finding his hostel and ended up walking back the same direction with him. We met up later for dinner and drinks and then made plans to keep in touch the next day. That Saturday, I went with Judith to the Chu Chi Tunnels, which were used by the Viet Cong guerrillas as hiding spots during combat. Shlomie had gone the previous day and had recommended his tour guide who was a former South Vietnamese soldier. We booked with the same company hoping for the same guide, but unfortunately got someone else.
Though the anti-American propaganda continued, it was amazing to see up close the kind of conditions under which soldiers from both sides were fighting. It was the middle of the jungle and the tunnel system was massive. Some parts of the tunnels can't be more than a meter wide, but the VC soldiers were so skinny that the could slide through without any problem. It is insane to me to think that some of them lived or worked inside from months at a time. There's a 100-meter section of tunnel that tourists can now crawl through and though there are lights, the end is so narrow you're not sure you'll get though. Once we got out we dined on "VC hamburgers," which were actually some kind of cooked taro root dipped in sugar and spice. At the very end we had the pleasure of watching an old newsreel about the evils of America and the virtues of the North Vietnamese. Although, I'm convinced that the U.S. should never have involved in the war and that it was all Cold War maneuvering, I think it's really funny that they assert that we started the whole thing.
I ended my stay in Saigon on an upbeat note with a trip to the circus with Judith and Shlomie. It was Judith's idea after she saw the tent across the street from our hotel and Shlomie and I decided to play along. There were some impressive acts, but it was on a smaller scale than the Beijing acrobats so it didn't quite live up to that precedent. The cutest part was when the clowns would come out and they would bring kids up to the stage to volunteer for various tricks. And the best part was when Shlomie got called to the stage not once, but twice to try to twirl a hula hoop and then to help out with a magic trick. We all went out for drinks after the show for our last night all together in town.
Up next I'll tell you all about my trip down the Mekong Delta from Vietnam to Cambodia.
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