"When I was in 'Nam...": November 2009

This past weekend I headed down to the Mekong Delta to visit my friend Emily for a Pre-Thanksgiving Celebration. Emily is tall, freckled, blonde, and beautiful. She radiates California in the same way I reek of East Coast. I wore black all weekend, she wore blue. Basically, she’s everything that the hosts at my school really hoped I would be---a disappointment they did little to hide when I first met them:

Day 1 in Hai Duong: “Madeline, are your parents really Americans?
You’re so dark. And short. We really thought you would be blonde...”

Emily and I became fast friends back in August when all of the Fulbrighters were living in Hanoi. One night, as the group of us were looking for a place to find street food, Emily and I simultaneously felt our indigestion riddled intestines rumble and looked up only to find the other also giving the universal eyebrow raise for “Where’s the nearest 5 Star Restaurant?” We’ve been friends ever since.

Like most things in Vietnam, my trek down South had its tumultuous moments. I flew from Hanoi to Can Tho, the fourth largest city in Vietnam and the biggest city in the Mekong Delta. My flight was good, and by that I mean I slept most of the way and we didn’t crash. From Can Tho, Emily had booked an express shuttle bus to Rach Gia, the town where she lives, about 3 hours away. I got a motorbike taxi from the airport to the bus station, and from there my instructions from Emily were simple. “Just go to the counter and ask for the 10:30 bus. They already have your reservation.”

“Easy. Easy. Easy,” I thought. At least until I got to the bus station and was immediately swarmed and grabbed by at least 8 people saying, “Where you go! Where you go!”

Overwhelmed, I thrust out the little card on which I had written the name of Emily’s town and bus stop. Four of the hawkers let me go and dissipated into the crowd; the other four continued pulling me towards a cluster of unmarked shuttle buses and away from the reservation counters.

“Khong! Khong!” (No! No!) I said. And pointed back to the station pavilion, where I was supposed to check in.

“No! No!” They shouted back. “Rach Gia! Rach Gia! Yes! Yes!” And all but manhandled me right into an unmarked shuttle bus.

People yell a lot in Vietnam, and it usually just makes me do what they say. I know that this is a bad habit, but with my limited Vietnamese and the fact that I rarely actually know exactly where I’m going, its easy to momentarily convince myself that these yelling, aggressive Vietnamese really do know what’s best for me. So I got settled into the gypsy shuttle bus, forked over for 60,000 Dong (less than 4 dollars), and then thought, “Shit. No getting out of this now.”

Don’t worry: I am very aware of my own stupidity, and as I look back I thank God that I’m writing this during my flight back to Hanoi and not in the bowels of Cambodia or on a barge in the Gulf of Thailand.

As soon as the shuttle bus pulled out, I put in my IPod and tried to zone out. This was no easy feat when you consider everyone in the front seat was smoking, someone beside me was coughing up a lung, a child behind me was pulling my hair, and every kilometer some masked lady sitting on a stool a few feet away from me would heave open the sliding door and with a high pitched primal scream try to convince people who were just standing on the street to get on the sardine-can of a shuttle bus. What did she think? That they would drop everything they were doing and hop in just because someone yelled at them?? Who gets on an unmarked shuttle bus just because someone yells at them?!?!?

......

As this was all happening, my IPod--always one for irony--shuffled to Paul Simon’s “American Tune.” I almost said out loud, “You know Paul, you’re right: You don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home, but let’s be honest: I also didn’t expect this!

The rest of the ride to Rach Gia had a few more notable events--I was switched onto another shuttle with no explanation, and, after a 1/2 hour in a parking lot, they took me to Rach Soi rather than Rach Gia. It was all very confusing. By an act of God, I somehow made it to Emily relatively unscathed--at least physically--and have never been so happy. Emily once again proved we are made to be friends by handing me a glass of wine and 2 Excedrin within 5 minutes of my arrival. She also pointed out that, despite the difficult journey, I'd probably get myself into more trouble with strangers in the States.

We relaxed in Emily's town for the day, eating and hanging out by the Gulf of Thailand.

Emily and the Gulf

Then we went back to Can Tho (this time on a respectable bus) and proceeded to have an absolutely amazing time.

Can Tho has the same attractions as most Vietnamese cities; one museum, one western restaurant, and one ridiculously over-sized and gaudy statue of Ho Chi Minh.

(Hello, Uncle Ho)

But Can Tho has two other things going for it also:

1. A Luxury hotel with a pool and spa

2. Floating markets

I tried my best to photo-document some of the highlights:

1. Emily and I took a little river tour to the Floating markets. At one point our boat driver turned to Emily and said something in Vietnamese and made a little motion with his hands. Emily answered "Yes," then turned to me and said, "OK. I think we're turning around now." Five minutes later, our driver pulled alongside a barge filled with watermelons, tethered our boat to the barge, and motioned for us to board. We were welcomed inside the haul, which was FILLED with watermelons, and offered watermelon to eat right there. Emily leaned over to me and said, "I think I agreed to this."

Vietnam: the Country where one minute you think you're turning around, and the next you're inside a barge on the Mekong, knee deep in Watermelons.

2. Post-watermelon fest, our boat took us to a little Mekong tributary. There was a low bridge ahead, and our driver got up to unhook the canopy over the boat.
Me: Oh look, he's taking down the roof so we fit under the bridge.
Emily: Is he taking it off?
Me: It doesn't look like it comes off.
Emily: Where does it go?
(Roof canopy comes down on our heads)
Emily: Duck.

3. Our driver docked our boat and led us past this little cafe and into a fruit forest. As we walked past each different type of tree, he would point to the fruit and say the name in Vietnamese for us to repeat. I am fairly certain this was much more for his amusement than for our edification since he laughed every time we said anything. Still, Emily, being an enthusiastic student (and better at Vietnamese than me), and I, being used to Vietnamese people laughing at my incapability, were happy to play parrots.

4. Here's a few more Mekong pics. Now, I've never been to Disneyland, but Emily said the boat ride reminded her of the Jungle Cruise, sans the head-hunting cannibals. Thank God.

5. We got massages in a hut. I actually relaxed. It was amazing.

6. Our last night we had a non-turkey Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel restaurant. It was really lovely. We told each other what we are thankful for...and we both said we are thankful for each other....Awwww...

By Sunday afternoon, I had never felt so relaxed. Emily and I were lying by the hotel pool-- me reading what I consider to be acceptable chic-lit, her reading an article about Anna Wintour in my NY Mag--when an older American man walked by and pleasantly asked what we were doing in Vietnam. We were younger than the other guests by at least 30 years, so we stood out. Emily told him we are here with the Fulbright Program. His eyes bugged a little as he took in my polka dotted bikini, Emily’s ruffled, strapless bathing suit, and our not so subtle effort to get a tan.

“Like Fulbright Fellows? You two are Fulbright fellows?”

“Yep," I said. "Just wait ‘til our Mojitos come.
Then we’ll really look the part.”

The best part of the weekend? Chit-Chatting. At one point, as she waded in the pool and I dangled my feet at the side, Emily said, “Do you realize we’ve been non-stop chatting for 3 days straight?”

Yes. And it was heaven...

"When I was in 'Nam..."

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving.

Monday, November 23, 2009

A Weekong in the Mekong (hehe)

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