HO CHI MIN CITY

Ya know... that place that you probably thought was named "Saigon" from that musical... well it's not anymore.

MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES!
I cannot emphasize to you enough how many motorbikes scoot through the bustling streets of this SE Asian metropolis. Awakening from the Metropole Hotel and walking out into the motorbike mayhem of HCM city sent more of a jolt to the senses than shooting 5 espressos while simultaneously jamming a fork into a light socket. A tour guide later informed me that the city boasts 8 million residents... and 4.5 million motorbikes. I think that's a low-ball estimate.

Everyone just literally walks through perpetual traffic. So... I quickly adapted to my environment by clinging next to old Vietnamese women who seemed to have much wisdom in crossing the treacherous intersections. Soon enough I was a pro- and though I remained a bit frightened, I made certain to hide my fear from the old women.

WAR MUSEUM
After a quick tour through the indoor central market (the same t-shirt shop multiplied 50 times), I walked toward the Vietnamese War Memorial Museum. On my way I was greeted by an extremely persistant rickshaw driver named Mun. After telling him I would rather walk many times and in many ways, Mun eventually won my heart. I agreed to travel in his rickshaw- but only to the museum. He replied,"Ok. 6 dollars." I hopped in, and we were off. It was strange being pedaled around in front of the locals- I felt like some rich exploitative American kid feeding off of their people and culture. If only they knew I was an unemployed American kid who would rather do a walking tour! Eventually I relaxed and Mun and I had a great time. He taught me some Vietnamese phrases, and before I knew it we arrived.

The war museum seems more of a Vietnamese propaganda piece than a museum. It is essentially a collection of photos with captions showing all of the atrosities that the "American enemy" inflicted upon the natives. It was so interesting and different to see the opposite side of the story. In fact, the films and displays they show glorify the killing of American soldiers. They gave out medals not for courage or bravery but for how many Americans killed. It was very saddening and difficult to see- for both sides.


I left the museum and toured the city with Mun to visit pagodas and shrines, the Saigon river, and some shops. And then it was 3pm. Mun told me he was tired, and I said that's fine- I will walk around. Then came the time for payment. "You pay me for 5 hours", said Mun. "Uhm, it's only been 4 hours" I replied. "Ok. 4 hours. 24 dollars", he said. "No- you said 6 dollars", I replied. This went on for a while, back and forth. Eventually I agreed to pay him $20. He was NOT happy. I walked away. I'm sad that we parted on a sour note, but I felt cheated by his witholding the fact that our trip together would cost $6 every hour and not $6 total. Mun, if you're out there- I'm sorry for the misunderstanding- but you shouldn't have misled me. If you ever visit San Francisco I will put you on my shoulders and bike you around for free. Promise.

WATER PUPPETS: THE POCAHONTAS ON ICE OF VIETNAM
After walking the city for a while, it was off to the Vietnamese Water Puppet Show. This is like... ALL the rage in Veitnamese family-friendly entertainment. It is for Vietnamese families what "Pocahontas: On Ice" is for American families". Or maybe it's more like the SE Asian version of "Puppeteering 4 Christ". Either way, it's fun for the kids and relief for the parents. And then there was me.

Essentially, they have a stage with a pond of brownish water, and 8 men comandeer different puppets: people, dragons, fish, water tigers; from behind a screen. It is actually very entertaining and quite well done. And the kids LOVE it. Especially the cutest Vietnamese 5-year-old ever, sitting by me, entranced by the show, complete with crooked glasses in front and a rat tail in back.

After the show I hopped on the back of a Vietnamese motorbike for the first time. And my mother would be proud to know that I insisted on a helmet that fit. And then I wore it. The ride was hectic- weaving in and out of clusters of bikes, motorbikes, cars, buses, and rickshaws. But in that moment I knew I was alive. And it was great.

IN DA CLUB: VIETNAM
The driver dropped me off and I went out and met some new friends at a bar just down from my hotel. Most were from England, some Aussies, a Canadian nicknamed Johnny Vegas... pretty typical. Most had been traveling for months already. Made my trip seem like a joke. But I got good suggestions of places to check out- apparently Da Lat, Vietnam is the place to be. It's where Vietnam vacations. We ended up at some dance club bumping all American top-40 mashups. It was definitely far from what I had anticipated from my visit to Vietnam. And yet it felt a bit like home. So I danced.

Eventually, it was 4:30am and I had to leave for Da Lat the next day, so I left the group as they continued amidst the laser lights and "T Pain" remixes. And by 5am it was off to sleep.

THE ROAD TO DA LAT. CONDUCIVE TO PRAYER.
The following morning came quick. But I was ready. I left the hotel in the morning to run some errands, and booked a bus ticket for Da Lat. At 4pm we left the city, and embarked upon one of the closest-to-death rides I've experienced. Basically, the entire 7-hour drive is a 2-lane highway which holds on it tourist buses and transport vehicles speeding at a crazed pace in each direction. This alone would be potentially hazardous, but that's not it. Add in the constant slew of motorbike drivers, cruising at half the speed of the buses, and you begin to see the issue. In order to keep from hitting the lone teenager on a motorbike, the bus drivers on both sides constantly dart into the opposite lane, directly into oncoming traffic. Apparently, the dangerous nature of this situation is remedied by the bus driver incessantly honking his horn at motorbikes and buses in the oncoming lane. In all seriousness, I sat in front, and the bus driver did not stop honking for more than 30 seconds for the entire 7 hour drive. As you can imagine, this breeds an environment that is extremely conducive to reading and sleeping.

I prayed alot on that drive. I prayed for my family, for people at home, for people here in Vietnam. But I prayed earnestly that we wouldn't all die on that bus ride.

God answered my prayers. We arrived in Da Lat safe and sound at 11pm. Thank you God!

After much confusion as to how to get to my hotel, a private bus driver told me to hop into his bus and he would take me to my hotel- he knew where it was. So I got in. And we proceeded to drive LITERALLY 1/2 block. And then he told me to get out. So...apparently I had arrived. I checked in and settled in to garner some rest before the next day.