Cham minority village

Having grown up in an Islamic country, there's something reassuring about seeing a mosque or a headscarf or a songkok in a foreign land. A few years ago, when I was studying in a government - and therefore, Islamic but masked by the word 'Malay' - college, my teachers and friends had told me that it was wrong to greet them in the Muslim way. Looking back on those years, I'm disgusted at my naivete for having thought it acceptable to say such things and horrified that it happened in my very backyard as it were. Isn't such exclusivity the cause of today's many conflicts?


Today, I greeted the imam of the mosque with an 'Assalamualaikum.' He smiled at me and replied, 'Waalaikumsalam.'

Chau Doc floating village

Chau Doc III

So this morning, I woke up like, really early to catch the sunrise and all, which was ok, I guess. And I had breakfast by the side of the road as usual. And I was eating my noodles when I picked up a piece of meat with my chopsticks and I went like, 'Oh my god! Is that a mesentery? Like eww!' I'm usually up for crazy stuff but I didn't feel like intestine this morning - not from any animal. So I pushed the intestine and possibly liver and kidneys aside. As I left, I think the lady was laughing at me so I flipped my hair at her as I walked away.

Chau Doc II

Much like the lazy brown waters of Hau Giang river on which the town straddles, Chau Doc moves about with a slow pace. Traffic is almost non-existent with hardly anyone rushing. Sellers conduct business at the market and shops almost lethargically. In the evenings, people sit or stroll along the riverside promenade whilst youngsters practise martial arts. It feels as if Time decided to stop somewhere along its tracks and kept rewinding and replaying itself. It's the perfect place to unwind, relax and recuperate.

***


Traveling on your own, you get to meet all sorts of people like Dung (pronounced 'yum') with hair up to her knees. She speaks Malay, Mandarin, English and Vietnamese and I find it such an honour to be able to converse with her. For three hours, we spoke about many things: about herself, her dreams, her thoughts, her three years spent working in Malaysia, myself, my hopes, my thoughts on the Vietnamese. I told her of my confusion over the Vietnamese and she explained to me that the Vietnamese "simply have big hearts": it's why they're so resilient. It's a real pleasure - meeting people like her along the way who lighten up the path that I've decided to take.

***


The air is humid - very humid. So humid that the sweat doesn't evaporate from my skin but forms a thin glistening layer. The little bugs that only come out when it's about to pour swarm about the white fluorescent light next to me. They reflect the light like a million fireflies. They fall around me like snowflakes but I carry on eating. If they drop into my bowl of noodles, I push them out. If I miss them, they get eaten. They're hardly poisonous I don't think. I think most people would freak out but I carry on eating. It starts to drizzle. I finish my meal and pay the vendor. An early night tonight.

Banh Mi

I brave the drizzle and puddly roads in my slippers for lunch. What is it about growing up and our obsession with keeping our feet clean? Note to self: must go for a jog in the rain through muddy fields when back in Cambridge.

***


I muster enough courage to try Banh Mi for the first time ever (and possibly the last unless I can find it outside of Vietnam). Reasons why I've never tried it so far:

• Everything - bread, meat, vegetables - is handled with bare hands
• There is no element of heating (cooking) involved
• The whole thing is wrapped in newspaper and placed in a plastic bag

...It's actually really good! Now to wait and see if I fall sick.

***


Yay! the rain has stopped and I'm not sick.

Chau Doc I

It's lovely here in the Mekong delta town of Chau Doc - so much so that I've decided to spend another day here. I need to remind myself that there's absolutely no rush at all. Besides, I really should gather as much information as I can about my boat trip to Phnom Penh before I commit to anything.


I've got really nice accommodation too - my own room with two king-size beds and my very own similarly-sized balcony. The bathroom is out on the landing but because my room is the only one up here and it's the highest floor, no one ever comes up here so I basically have the whole floor to myself. The view up here is good too: it faces away from the river but I can peek over the side to get a view of it.


It's currently raining, which blows, because I got up late and decided to skip breakfast. So now I can't get lunch or look around town. I also had to bring in my clothes which were drying out on the balcony. But the overall effect is calming and in some ways, surprisingly reassuring. I don't think I could've asked for more: rain in the Mekong delta. I do hope everything clears up soon though and it'll all be beautiful after the rain.

Mekong delta

There's no way roads in inner Southeast Asia are worse than those in the Mekong delta. No fucking way. A six-hour ride on literally non-existent roads for more than half of the journey - alternating between a hardly smooth surface of large rocks and deep potholes with dusty paths and muddy tracks. And whoever designed these roads clearly never thought about the gradual incline to and from bridges.


I'm surprised my stomach withstood it all despite a lunch of soup noodles - even the conductor stuck her head out of the window to throw up. Irony: foundations of new tarred roads and wide bridges being laid down parallel to the 'road' we were on throughout the entire journey by labourers.


The Mekong delta is bewildering even when viewed at sea level - what more from above. It's one wide expanse of lowland divided erratically into little islands by the Mekong river which fans out into the region. There are no mountains to behold, just flat farmland as far as the eye can see - obscured by tall trees every now and then.


Throughout the journey, we cross countless bridges spanning the little tributaries of the Mekong river, bordered by little villages that live off them. At the ferry crossing, the land looks as if it had been torn asunder and the sea rushed into the gash and churned up the silt to form the great brown river.


The harvest season must've just ended. The fields are mostly bare and the smog and the smell of smoke in the air suggest the burning of chaff. I see more churches here - apparently thanks to the missionaries who tried to save the poor souls of the tribes who live in godlessness far away from the civilization of big cities. Development is approaching, slow, but everywhere you go, you see the sign of the New Messiah.


So I'm sitting in this bus, and I'm thinking, 'This is going to be worse than Chongqing and Dazu.' There, at least I had a map (not for Dazu) and I could probably save my life with Chinese. But here, I don't have a map and I speak only three phrases of Vietnamese. This is going to be hard and will most likely be the toughest leg of this trip this time around.


The thing about sunsets is that they're very brief. The sun puts on its show just within that small window of a few minutes; just before it dips completely below the horizon, throwing red splashes all over the darkening sky. And for a brief moment, it's all over and the world is plunged into darkness.

Ho Chi Minh City Museum

Reunification Palace

Visiting the Reunification Palace and the Ho Chi Minh City Museum has been an enlightening experience. Ho Chi Minh City's take on the Vietnam war is a refreshing change from that of Hanoi. Coming from the capital city of the defeated faction in the civil war, it is also a more informative and interesting perspective.


I think it's fair to say that Vietnam's history is unique. Throughout its history, it has always faced the threat of invasion by foreign powers: the imperial Chinese dynasties of Qin, Han and Ming; the Mongolians under Kublai; as well as the French and American imperialists. And they have always fought back for their freedom and sovereignty. Although they have not always prevailed, this nationalistic fervour seems to have bridled under the surface like embers waiting for the right conditions to fan into a blazing fire of vengeance.


And this is why I don't understand the Vietnamese. After having gone through such a turbulent past, you'd have expected it to show in their behaviour whether in their ferocity in handling business, or their suspiciousness towards foreigners, or even a certain roughness in their speech. But instead, you find the opposite in the Vietnamese. If anything, they appear to have a blase attitude towards everything.


I spoke to Kiet about this and he thinks it's because the Vietnamese knows there's nothing that can be done but to try their best to keep on surviving. There's nothing they can do about the war, but there's certainly something they can do to save themselves. And that's how they persevere.


Forgive me but I don't think this is true. Being fatalistic does not cause a people to unite and build Ho Chi Minh's Trail, or even dig the Cu Chi Tunnels or win the Vietnam war. Being fatalistic only lets you survive for a little while longer.


After two weeks in Vietnam, her people still intrigue me.

War Remnants Museum

The War Remnants Museum is an excellent museum - and not just because of its detailed English captions. As its name suggests, it houses - as part of its exhibits - a collection of US fighter planes, tanks, artillery and bombs. Small mention is made on the Indochina war with the French but the stress lay more on the (second) Vietnam war.


My favourite exhibit has to be the exhibit dedicated to the photojournalists who risked their lives to bring us such vivid photographs of a war even before my time, which now serve to remind me of unfortunate times. Aside from the informative captions, their photographs are also accompanied by excerpts from their journals, writings, books or interviews (those who survived). I don't think I've ever been moved by such an exhibition before.


What I like about this musum is the lack of outright recriminations (except for one exhibit). Instead, its exhibits sue for peace and act as a reminder to all so that history is not repeated. Even the emblem of the museum bears a white dove in the foreground. Sure, it's not entirely neutral but I find the exhibits on chemical (Agent Orange) warfare and the brutality of war to innocent civilians a warning to the horrors of any war.

Couchsurfing Saigon

Meet Steve. He's a high-school graduate from Canada. He lives in Ho Chi Minh City with Charlie from Buffalo, Martin from York and Whitney from an undisclosed location. Minh does not live here although she apparently spends more time here than wherever it is she lives. She's Vietnamese but speaks impeccable English and only a smatter of Vietnamese which gives me doubts as to her background.

They all live together in this house, a 45-minute walk from the centre. Their rooms are simple and basic - some with only a mere mattress on the floor. It's a good indication as to how I might possibly live now that I've got a house of my own. They all teach English at private tuition centres around Ho Chi Minh City.

When prompted as to why Ho Chi Minh City, they replied, "This is the life!" What followed was a discussion on the different mindsets between Asians and Caucasians. Steve said it is "more free" here - easier to get a job with his high-school credentials. I've yet to ask whether a 'free-er' job meant a non-'nine-to-five' job or a job that's not the standard professional job as expected of a person who comes from a society that can afford tertiary education or where tertiary education is so easily available.

Giac Lam

Altar for body remains: The walls are lined with shelves enclosed by glass. Within them are jars in which ashes of the deceased are kept. Some jars are plain and simple, some are carved in the shape of lotus buds, others are ornately decorated with Buddhist themes. Photos are attached to some. And one jar, huddling inconspicuously amongst the rest, displays two photos: ashes of both husband and wife. A love inseparable even by death - a true everlasting love, one that surpasses space and time.


I like this temple very much. It's a true place of worship where prayer is taken seriously: only between Man and God. The front doors are locked and the only way in is through the back. But obviously only if you're familiar to the place of worship (or if you explore it thoroughly).


Most pagodas are seven-stories high. They represent the seven steps to enlightenment or so I read somewhere. And I quite like the whole concept: reaching nirvana by climbing seven-stories of stairs, or in this case, the top where you get a sweeping view of the land, the state of nirvana when one comes to deep understanding.


And what a view, houses spreading in all directions as far as the eye can see. It's like a never-ending Athens. And all around, you hear the noisy sound of traffic and the deafening noise of construction. Even the chanting of monks which filled the entire temple complex are drowned out. It's actually driving me up the wall.

Phuoc Hai

The Phuoc Hai: the wood carvings and panels above the altars are blanketed from the smoke of incense over the span of years whilst the ceramic statues on the roof still gleam in their colours under the sun.

Saigon sights

Notre Dame Cathedral

City Hall

Ho Chi Minh City is similar in some ways to Hanoi. I was expecting a busy metropolis enclosed by tall skyscrapers but the backpackers' area where the bus dropped me off is pretty much similar to Hanoi's Old Quarter. Kiet says it's because we're in the wrong district: business and commercial districts are not located in the centre of the city.

Opera House

That said, its city centre where the French built their colonial structures - remnant of French imperialism - is pretty . I mean, come on, would the Vietnamese build an opera house? The city hall, and post office are really something to see. The river is another story though - apparently, the city council is trying to build up the district situated just across the river into another commercial district so maybe in a few years time, it may just look like Shanghai's Pudong area.

Post Office

Ben Thanh Market

If I thought Hanoi was bad enough, Ho Chi Minh City is worse. Not only is the traffic heavier here, but motorists really push it to the limits here, coming within millimetres between them and you - and here I am contemplating if I should rent a motorcycle or not.