Ho Chi Minh City (Better Known as Saigon)

"When you understand the pain of those who cause you suffering
and choose to let it go, forgiveness will come naturally."
Sister Chân Không from her foreword to Be Free Where you Are by Vietnamese monk, teacher and author Thich Nhat Hanh

It's only a short flight from Dalat to Saigon (the official version is Ho Chi Minh City). On these in-country flights provided by Viet Nam Airlines, we've become accustomed to offers of "refreshing" towels, drinks and sandwiches, a nice change from the prosaic drink and pretzels at home.


We're greeted once again by millions of motorbikes honking and swerving through traffic with the added hazard of cars and trucks. Notice that the motorbikes are going in four different directions at once.



Here two policeman are standing and trying to ...well, they're standing.





One final photo of urban life in Viet Nam is something we've seen in other developing countries---an electrician's nightmare. This tangle of wires fascinated the men in our group. If they could have found ladders, they probably would have tried to untangle the mess. Lam assured us that all of these wires will soon be underground along with a subway system. He didn't mention a starting date. But, in the meantime, there are architectural gems to be seen in this "Paris of the Orient," reminders of the French colonization of Viet Nam. First is the Hotel de Ville, or City Hall, then the fabulous Post Office which reminded us of a French railway station and finally Notre Dame Cathedral.



























We attended a daily Mass here and had a beautiful experience of liturgy. Supported by a choir and organ, all the parts of the Mass were sung, both the presider's and the people's. Since the Vietnamese language is so melodic, it wasn't too surprising to hear musical responses. What did astonish us was the beauty of the music---at a daily Mass no less! The communion song was exquisite.

We went to a popular restaurant featuring "Pho," a Vietnamese noodle soup filled with greens, meats, fish or tufu and, of course, loads of noodles. Joan, Brian, Giovanni and we felt like celebrities when we discovered we were sitting at the same table that had been occupied by President Clinton and Chelsea in November of 2000. (Note photo on the wall.) For anyone wondering what they ate, their order was on display: "President Bill Clinton: Chicken Noodle Soup, Spring Rolls, Fresh Mango Juice. Miss Chelsea: Vegetarian Noodle Soup, Ice Coffee with milk."
We followed Miss Chelsea's lead.

Reminders of the "American" war are everywhere in Viet Nam, and Saigon is where we met our memories head on. While we were raising our young family in the '60s and '70s, people of every age on both sides of the conflict were dying in this faraway country. In the afternoon we visited the War Remnants Museum, a fitting name, we realized, as we walked from room to room viewing photographs and artifacts of the horrors of war. One of the most unforgettable displays, entitled "Requiem," was dedicated to the 135 photojournalists who died during those years.
This picture of a mother and her children wading across a river won a Pulitzer Prize in 1966 for Kyōichi Sawada of United Press International who later died on assignment in Cambodia. Trying to absorb some meaning from what we were seeing left us exhausted.
Only near the end of our visit, as we looked at brightly painted pictures produced by Vietnamese school children, were we able to reflect on the ability of the human spirit to somehow defeat catastrophe. The 150 paintings are part of a larger collection of 1500 in which each child was asked to imagine a world at peace. The results, as this picture entitled "Friendship Among Peoples" suggests, give us hope that someday - through our children - the peace we seek will be realized.

Driving into the countryside to see the famous (or infamous) Cu Chi Tunnels, we stopped at a rubber tree plantation and discovered how rubber bands, elastic, tires and countless products came to be. Just about the only thing you CAN'T do with sap from a rubber tree is pour it on pancakes. But for that we have maple trees. The process, with bowls or buckets hanging on the trees to collect the sap, is the same.

A short drive away we entered the area where villagers literally dug themselves in for nearly thirty years, creating a complex of underground tunnels that defy the imagination.














Beginning in 1945 when the French occupied the country, the tunnels provided some security for the Cu Chi villagers and also a base of operations. Manually dug by soldiers the tunnels were on three levels, 75 miles long and contained kitchens, hospital, weapons rooms, conference room as well as living quarters for the Viet Cong. The area was booby-trapped with mines, bamboo stakes in camouflaged pits and other tortuous devices. Although American planes dropped tons of bombs on the area, the tunnels were eventually considered too great a risk for American soldiers. We kept thinking about our friend who was a colonel during the war and returned there with his wife a few years ago at her urging. At the tunnels he met a ticket-taker who saw the emotion in his face and said, "You were here, weren't you?" Then added, "We forgive you." Our friend replied, "I forgive you too." It was then he knew he'd done the right thing by returning to Viet Nam. We met a former marine who was also seeking a sense of closure by visiting sites where he had fought during the war. The toll was enormous on both sides, and though the government is still Communist, there's a healthy dose of western influence and capitalism. For instance, the tunnels are a great tourist attraction and part of the system has been enlarged to accommodate larger Western tourists, so the photos above are deceiving.




Here are pictures of our guide entering an actual tiny opening and covering it with leaves. He popped up about fifteen away which made us all laugh. As Shakespeare knew so well, when things get dark and grim, a little levity helps retain our sanity.





















The next day we headed to the Mekong Delta, another familiar name from those long ago news broadcasts. We weren't sure what to expect, certainly not an area so vast and beautiful. It is the region in southwestern Vietnam where the Mekong River empties into the sea through a network of tributaries. The size of the area covered by water depends on the season. It produces rice, fish, fruits and vegetables - a living market on and in the water.



















Passing by fish farms (where the fish are contained under the floating buildings), we approached islands with such fanciful names as Dragon, Unicorn, Phoenix and finally Turtle Island where we entered the jungle feeling as if we were characters in "Apocalypse Now."























Transferring to a different mode of transportation, we experienced our first mishap in two weeks of traveling. The pony trotted too near the edge of the road, and we nearly toppled out of the cart. Renata's back was jarred, and Jacque's nose collided with Jerry's head, doing no damage to Jerry but giving Jacque two black eyes (later, deftly covered with make-up). What troupers.














These two photos were included to impress our grandchildren. (Are you impressed, children?) We stopped at a roadside establishment where the python is a family pet and the honey bees part of their business enterprise. There were thousands, millions of bees on the frame! What a brave grandmother.


We said goodbye to the Mekong Delta - and to Viet Nam, gathering later in the evening for our farewell dinner. Lam had somehow managed to create a DVD of our trip, complete with music. He also gave each of us a CD of photos. Thank you, Lam! The next morning we sent Lam off to his family in Hanoi with tearful hugs and said goodbye to Marsha and Jules, Barbara and Carol, Norma and Jacque.




And then there were ten. We flew east, anxious to see Cambodia and the spectacular Anghor Wat.

Stay tuned for the next installment.