The DMZ, Cu Chi tunnels and the Rambonization of the 'American War'

Well, I expected some tanks, guns and tunnels, but what I also found on our numerous Vietnam War (or American War as it is called here--when you've had so many wars throughout your history, you can't very well call every war "Vietnam" now can you?) expeditions was something different altogether. Some of it was informative, some of it tacky à la Disneyland, and some of it just plain sad.

When I say sad I mean two very different things; one the one hand, you have the very visible scars of the American War, both on the landscape and the people. Thousands still bear the effects of the massive air-bombing campaigns that dropped agent orange defoliants and destructive napalm bombs. The results are the children of soldiers and villagers who had the misfortune to live in the effected areas. Deformities, cancers, and mental development problems are just some of the ills that plague an entire generation.

Then there are the government-run factories, where the disabled are "encouraged" to work, producing crafts that the tour companies proudly tout. When you're on one of these Cu Chi tunnel visits, a mandatory stop by all tour companies on their way to the tunnels is one such factory. Walking through the shop, without any opportunity to talk to the workers or put any context to what you witness, is just a quick guilt trip before you are quickly whisked into the gift shop, where marked up products adorne a well light and air conditioned shopping area. Funny, there wasn't any AC in the workers area. And that's what we were allowed to see. I can only imagine what the other parts of the factory looked like. This was gross voyeurism at its worst. The whole sham had an air of "come look at the poor deformed workers." And of course, once the quick peep show made you feel bad, "please take a look in our gift shop to ease your guilt!" Jennie and I weren't impressed.

The other thing that really got to us was the way in which the war, particularly the actions and personification of the Americans, was approached. Our experience, having visited the DMZ (De-Militarized Zone, the once VERY militarized area along the 17th parallel in central Vietnam), various Ho Chi Minh museums (every city has its Uncle Ho museum, and they are pretty much all the same: Uncle Ho is the greatest human being in the history of mankind, if not the history of the solar system, and children loved him), the War Remnants Museum (formerly called the Museum of Chinese and American War Crimes) and the Cu Chi tunnels 60 KM north of Saigo... I mean Ho Chi Minh City, is that the Vietnamese regime has a very selective memory of the events that took place here 40 years ago. No context is ever given to explain images in exhibit displays. Instead petty, if not childish, textboxes accompany images in many museums. I expected some propaganda in a "Communi$t Republic", but some of the stuff has been in real poor taste. Examples include an image of a frightened soldier at the Khe Sanh military base on the day of the famous attack, with the caption: "What is President Johnson thinking now?", or the voice over of a "documentary" at the Cu Chi tunnels explaining how one VC guerrilla was an "American Killing Hero" with over 200 Americans killed. Charming.

Watching movies was is a big part of my life, and one gem stuck with me from the moment my dad and I first watched it; Full Metal Jacket. One line has stuck in my head since that day, and on every war-related visit here: "War is Hell". Maybe that's an obivous statement to some, but I think it holds true, particularly here. The Americans did horrible things during the American War. So did the North Vietnamese. And the VC too. To play revisionist's history and pretend that every Vietnamese was throwing flowers at the "liberation forces" when Saigon fell in 1975, is to do an injustice to those who died; on both sides.

Today at the Cu Chi tunnels, where many died, you can now climb some of the destroyed tanks as your guide exclaims, "you look like Rambo!". You can even shoot your weapon of choice from a shopping list of American War guns. I decided on the AK-47, at 10 bullets for 200,000 Vietnamese Dong (about $12.50). Why? Partly curiousity like most of the other guys there. I do say guys, cause not a woman was to be seen shooting the weapons. Only us dumb guys.

The other reason was something my good friend Trevor calls an "International Regret", which is where you have the chance to do or purchase something while in another country, but don't because it's too much money or not practical, etc. We've all had them. Well, I've tried to avoid as many international regrets on this trip.

I'm glad I tried it, but it really wasn't that much fun. For one, the Vietnamese soldier loading the bullets looked at me as if to say, "You stupid yuppy white guy! How can you spend that much money on 10 bullets when the average Vietnamese makes $80 a month?". Another reason? Well, I never realized just how brutal being in a shooting range is. The sounds. The smell. The general hate-vibe that is felt. It may sound dumb, but firing weapons is a REALLY violent act. Not just the end result, but the very act of shooting is very angry. I may be bitter, but I'm not a violent person.

At any rate, seeing the places I had only read about or seen in the movies was very enriching, just as visiting the beaches in Normandy, or Vimy Ridge in France, or the Dachau concentration camp in Germany had been. But the Vietnam sites left me with a sour taste in my mouth. There's something to be said about the atrocities of war. And I suppose there are two ways to go about telling those stories. Sadly, we only got to see one side. At least we got to look like Rambo for a morning.

Halong Bay: My Pics

Howdy,

Well I promised some pics of mine from Halong Bay, so here they are. No too many words required, they're pretty self-explanatory!

Halong Bay is pretty much a little paradise.

Dusk was a great time to catch a sunset, or work out.

Jellyfish ARE NOT good to swim with!

There are fishermen/women a-plenty, here catching jellyfish. Yummy!

Here are some shots from the little village we visited, you know, the one where the little kid wanted to hurt us (if this doesn't ring a bell, read my previous post about the Halong Bay trip).

Chilling.

When in Rome (or should I say, When in a Communi$t Republic such as Vietnam).

Well, that's all folks, at least for now (or until I can find something faster than a F#$%@ 56k hook up), this took almost an hour!!!!!!

My Own Twilight Zone Episode in Hanoi!

"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone."
-Rod Sterling

The story I'm about to tell you doesn't involve any paranormal activity, or monsters, or any travel through time and space. It is however one of the weirdest things to ever happen to me. Therefor, I'm dubbing it my very own Twilight Zone episode. If you're curious, then read on.

It's 4:40 PM. I'm chilling the the lobby our hostel. We start chatting with some Canadian girls. Jennie heads over to the nearby computers, only to find that the Woman in Black, a thin woman of around 40 years wearing a black dress, who is now sitting in the back of the room, smoking quietly and drinking her coffee, has left her Yahoo account open. Upon informing her, she hurries over, in a state of confusion. She struggles to thank us in English, and I can tell she's a French-speaker; Swiss to be exact. I speak to her in French, and she immediately thanks us again. Odd, but nice I suppose.

I go back to our conversation with the Canadians. A tap on the shoulder. "Excuse me", Woman in Black shyly asks, "Do you travel much?". A normal question I suppose. I answer that I've travelled a fair bit, and ask why she asks. "Well, I have been travelling for a while, and I suspect my bank account has been accessed by someone other than me, and I am worried. Perhaps you can help me? Also, I have reason to believe that someone has cracked my email account."

I explain that she should contact her bank regarding her account. As for the email, I show her how to change her password and explain that while travelling, especially when using public computers, it would be wise to change her password fairly frequently. A look of complete confusion comes over Woman in Black's face. "Well no, if I do that, I will lose all my emails. I can't do that!", she says. I kindly explain the difference between changing a password and deleting emails. I also try to explain the difference between deleting the cache memory and any browsing history. Again, a look of total confusion, as though I am speaking Vietnamese to this Woman in Black.

Now I am no computer aficionado, as my Montreal buddies will let you know, but there are basics that I would expect some people to know, especially those who have an email account and use it abroad while travelling. But oh well. I help the Woman in Black. I show her two times in a row how to change her password, then kindly say goodbye and return to my conversation for the now third time. The Woman in Black lights another cigarette, awkwardly returns to the back of the hostel dinning area, alone, and sips another cup of coffee in the dimly-lit area. It would not be the last time I encounter the Woman in Black

Fast forward to 12:45 AM that same night. I am in bed, watching TV, about to ge to sleep, when suddenly, there's a loud knock on my door. "Who the hell is that?", Jennie asks. I go to check, but I have no peep hole. I slowly open the door, only to see a completely distraught Woman in Black, holding a cigarette in her trembling hand. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I think my life is in danger and I don't know who else to talk to!"

What the hell is going on?

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I'm the person you should be talking to", I tell her. "Perhaps you should talk to Nam, the hostel owner. He's very friendly and helpful."

"No!", the Woman in Black shouts, "He doesn't speak French. I need to talk to a French speaker!"

Okay. At this point I get a feeling something is up. I think back to the afternoon conversation with the Woman in Black, and how she explained that she suspected her bank account was defrauded. I quickly prepare myself for some pathetic story about how she has no more money, and needs me to front her some cash. I prepare myslef to get nasty and tell her off, but there's something about the Woman in Black's face; tears begin to form in her eyes and she continues to tremble as though she just saw a ghost. I figure she's either the world's best con artist, or she's genuinely scared for her life. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and go downstairs to the lobby dinning area with her.

Woman in Black proceeds to tell me her Asian life story, from her time in Bangkok, her visa troubles, the man from Cameroon she met, and would later have a 3-day affair with. WHOAH, too much info! I keep politely asking her to get to the point, and what her trouble is. For 20 minutes, Woman in Black is going on, telling me tales about her almost 6 weeks spent in Southeast Asia thus far. I really lose my patience.

"What exactly do you want to tell me? What does any of this have to do with your life being in danger?", I ask in an obviously pissed off tone.

"Well," the Woman in Black answers, "The man from Cameroon asked me to be friends with him. I only wanted a little fun, but he kept insisting that we stay friends. I figured a little companionship would be nice. So I said yes. But then, he started revealing things to me, like that he used to be with the Cameroon army, and that he is now a footballer in Bangkok. he also told me that he likes surprises, and that he would like to surprise me and visit me in Hanoi."

It's now 1:20 AM. I'm thinking, WTF is going on? I again ask her what the point of all of this is, and tell her that I need to get up early, and that unless she tells me what her problem is, I'm going back to bed.

"Well, the problem is that I was using my email yesterday, and suddenly, a text box appeared on my screen. It was from him, asking if I would be his friend.", Woman in Black explains. "I figured, this is weird, but okay. I am all alone, so a friend would be nice. But since then, every time I use my email account, these weird text boxes appear on the screen, with questions from him. And my aunt usually write back to me right away, but it's been almost 12 hours since I've last heard from her."

"And? What the hell does any of that matter?", I tell her.

"Well, I have reason to believe he's taken over my email account and is somehow taking control of the computers I'm using. How else could he send me text boxes? Why else would my aunt not answer me quickly?"

Suddenly, I realize the "weird" text boxes are instant message chats, from her Yahoo account. The "friendship request" was him adding her to Yahoo chat. WTF, this is what the tears, trembling, and 12:45 AM wake-up call was for? And how the hell did she know what room to knock on? All this goes through my head. I laugh, not knowing how to explain this to her, cause she clearly has no clue.

"This guy has been sending you IMs, chat messages, from his Yahoo account to yours!", I explain.

"What? What is chat?", Woman in Black retorts.

At this point I'm think HOLY SHIT, I can't deal with you right now. I explain to her that chatting is like talking on the phone, but typing. Woman in Black says, "So it's another e-mail account?"

I see another guy on the computer, chatting. I politely tell her that she should go see what that guy is doing. He's chatting. As for her life being in danger; absolutely not. "And if you think it really is," I add, "then you need to contact the Swiss embassy. I'm sorry but I'm not the one you should be telling all this to. And, given the state you're in, I really think it's time you end your vacation and head back home."

"So my life is not in danger?", Woman in Black asks.

I laugh, "No, your life is not in danger. If this is bothering you, change your email address, and don't add this Cameroon guy. That'll be the end of this story."

"Yes, but what about the tex boxes that appear?", Woman in Black asks again.

I can't help but laugh again. "You'll be fine. Good night!"

As I make my way up the stairs, back to my room, the Woman in Black quietly returns to her table in the back of the dimly-lit dinning room, lights another cigarette, and takes another sip out of her coffee.

I return to my room, realizing this is one of the weirdest things to ever happen to me, hoping to never again see the Woman in Black.

ZA

Halong Bay: The Land of 2,000 Islands

This place is REALLY cool!

I can't load any pictures on the computer I'm using, but I will go back and add some soon, I hope. Until then, hopefully my writing will suffice. I have included some random google images pics for now. I'll put mine up as soon as I can.

(Source: http://www.beihai2000.com/images/viet/halong/halong27.jpg)

We booked a 3-day tour, which included a night stay on a fancy junk boat, and a second night on chilled out Cat Ba Island, the largest of all the islands. We had a great crew of Brits, Irish, French, and an older Malaysian couple who probably wished they booked another tour without us young folk. Oh well, we were nice!

Day 1: An interesting 3.5 hour bus drive from Hanoi to Halong City started off our day. In case you're not familiar with Vietnamese driving, picture your busiest city street, say Rene Levesque Boul. in Montreal, but instead of cars and stop lights, the street is filled with 5 times as many motorbikes, and no stop lights. In fact, I don't think there are brakes in the country. Only gas pedal and horn. And boy, do they know how to use it. I'll post a video I took in our bus, that is pretty self-explanatory. Every couple of minutes or so, our bus would pass a bus that was passing another bus, with a huge trunk coming at full speed in the on-coming lane. This is where that zen/don't care anymore attitude needs to kick in. It's crazy driving. The sooner you accept that, the better your stay will be!

Needless to say the islands are one of the most beautiful areas I've ever been to. It's a paradise-like setting, with endless limestone islands that emerge from Halong Bay like tree-covered giants. We visited some HUGE caves and chilled around the Bay. We then took the kayaks out and went for some exploring, where we got to see some jelly-fish, an awesome monkey shaking a tree branch to scare us (he failed, we just laughed at him) and an eagle diving into the water to catch fish for the little ones in her nest. Awesome!

(Source: http://www.crossingjournal.com/images/halong%20bay1.jpg )

We got to jump off our boat's 2nd storey roof (the third was just too high!) and swim the warmest waters I've ever been in. The night was amazing, and the first time we've seen the stars in Asia. Everywhere else is either too polluted or cloudy.

Day 2: The second day saw us and the Brits go on, while the others had only paid for 2 days and made their way back to Hanoi. We went biking into one of the larger islands. Biking in the hills without breaks is interesting. Once in the little village, we witnessed a few odd things:

1) a siamese-twin dog, with two front bodies, but one rear body. Weird. I went back to get a photo, but it disappeared, BUT I SWEAR I SAW IT! you'll have to take my word for it ;-)

2) a little vietnamese boy from the village, who took devilish pleasure in hitting one of the Brits (Ben); first with his fist, then whipping him with a stick, which he proceeded to throw at his head. When Ben and I walked back past him, he now had a little knife in his hand. We ran past him and continued down the road. When we left the village, back to our boat, other kids made sure to punch us again. Nice goodbye present!

Later that day we went to Cat Ba Island, chilled out, and ended the evening with a small micro-brew type drink called Bia Hoi; it's basically home-made 3% beer that costs about 33 cents, and is REALLY good.

The next morning we headed back to Hanoi and left behind the beauty that is Halong Bay. Truly a must see!

(Source: http://www.friedrichs.us/Vietnam-Photos/3-239-Ha-Long-Boat-Islands-R.jpg )

ZA

Welcome to Hanoi!

Hey guys and gals,

So, Hanoi has been... interesting to say the least. Some of you will probably know about the story that follows, but it's worth putting into words, so that there will be an archive of my frustrations to look back upon when I reach a state of complete zen, forced upon me by the sheer fact that if I don't accept Vietnam--and Asia to a greater extent--for what it is, I will perhaps go insane. Most of you know that I can be a fairly intense and emotional person, and that sometimes I get worked up. Well, Vietnam is seriously putting me to the test. Just ask Jennie :-)

BTW- I'm skipping our time in Macau, because we were only there for 1 day and not much happened. Just picture Las Vegas in Asia, surrounded by a developing Asian country, and neighbouring the PRC. There's Macau in a nutshell! For more, check Jennie's blog.

Back to Hanoi. So, our plane from Bangkok was delayed well over an hour. No worries. On the flight over we met some nice Canadians; one who is persuing her PhD research in Hanoi. She told us about some friends of hers running a nice hostel, but we informed her we had already reserved a nice place (or so Lonely Planet said) on hostels.com But whatever, it's good to have other options I figured. Oh boy would this ring true later that night!

Our flight lands in Hanoi around 11:00 PM. The immigration officer, a pimply 20 year old I gather, greets me with some mean sounding Vietnamese and gesturing. I think, "Thank you, nice to meet you too", but I keep my mouth shout. It's late, there are guns. Being a smart-ass is probably not the best thing to do. After immigration, we get our stuff, and part with the Canadians. Our student friend tells us to call her if there's anything. Good thing I got her number. We find a cab (my buddy Huy warned me about the private driver scheme, so we went with the reputable white or yellow-shirted drivers). We get ushered in, only to have some random guy tell our driver something in Vietnamese. Humm, this seems a little off.

We drive in the darkness that is Hanoi night time (hardly any street lights) for about 45 minutes. Then the driver stops in front of the wrong hotel. Some drunk guy opens Jennie's door, "Give me your reservation number!" We explain this isn't the hostel we reserved. No matter. "I bring you to my friend hotel. Very nice!". Ughh, no.

I reiterate to the driver in a stern tone that I want the Stars Hostel. He finally finds it and let's us out, after trying to keep extra change. Ughh, no.

Buddy at the hostel, in the four English words he knows, explains that we have no reservation, the price is no longer $8/person/night (now $26), and that he will bring us to his friend's nicer hotel. Ughh, no.

So it's midnight in Hanoi, ther are no street lights, the only guy on the street is pissing on a tree, and we've only been in the country 1 hour, and already 3 people have tried to screw us.

Needless to say, I called up that favour with the Canadian girl, got into her friend's really nice and clean hostel, Little Hanoi, and all ended well.

Welcome to Hanoi!

ZA