Vietcong 3: Tunnels

 Day 3 - Tunnels

There is a day where authentically local becomes too authentically local, and that day was this morning.  We started off the day with a breakfast of Pho around the corner, which sounds good, but "authentic" pho means they're throwing tripe (stomach) in there even if you order "Shrimp" (a noun which can be disappointingly singular).  

Actually, lets back up. I fell asleep at 3-something (maybe 4-something) in the morning, because living three deep in a one room apartment means the lights and noise don't stop until the last person goes to bed - especially when one of those people will pull the pillow off your face because she's video-chatting and wants to tease you for her friends.  Then we all woke at 6:30am because the lights and noise start when the first person rises... Hopefully that puts the rest of today's post in jet-lagged context.

The next flaw with authentically local is deciding to take the bus (meaning three busses) to save 90% over a taxi. 90% which is also known as $35 round trip. And this journey (along with the rest of the day) is undertaken while wearing stupid-looking rice-hats and carrying 3 bags full of food and water. Not backpacks or purses, bags you have to carry in your hands the whole time. An entire day's worth of groceries, because groceries are cheap, restaurants are expensive, and the price-gougers at the gift shop will charge you $0.35 for a bottle of water. 

Now we add the neighbor kid deciding to tag along. /Tai/ is 9 and was super excited, and his mom figured it was fine to send him off with Lou, Mom, and I. This was actually adorable and a great example of the close-knit community they have, so we can strike that from the "too-authentic" list.  Unfortunately, his teacher was unwilling to let him skip class today despite the educational nature of this outing, so we got a panicked call on the bus and hopped off a few stops down the line so his dad could scooter over and collect him. Anyways, the feel-good reprieve is over, back to the rant:

I know what you're thinking - there's an easy solution to all this! Sleep on the bus! That imminently reasonable suggestion is complicated by sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, the quality of the pavement (or lack thereof), the quality of the suspension (or lack thereof), and the propensity to use the horn as a greeting, a threat, a warning, or - and I swear I'm not exaggerating - at least once on a completely deserted stretch of road, just for the fuck of it. In case that wasn't enough, the turn signal is hooked into a siren. It's a polite siren, not as loud or as piercing as an emergency siren, but there's no other word for it, and apart from a few sporadic reprieves it spent the whole trip singing it's heart out. So I saw an interesting slice of life across the city followed by some great views of the farmland around Saigon. Rice patties, of course, but also a lot of oxen and rubber plantations. 

Finally (after another hike), we arrived at our destination: The tunnels of the Viet Cong! My first priorities were to find the gift shop, buy a coke, and pound it. The caffeine worked a treat, but it's worn off by now, so I wrote this back in the 3-hours-of-sleep temperament. You know, for authenticity.

The plan is to rewrite the rest of this when I'm not sleep deprived (or more likely the deprivation is masked with caffeine) but here's the notes:

Background: 100km of tunnels, started decades earlier for the previous war, US destroyed 10km, etc etc

1st was a diorama show. Massive diorama. All in Vietnamese obviously. Probably propaganda. But the diorama was hundreds of square feet, featuring smoke machines, airplanes and helicopters on wires, tanks driving around - it was super fun even if I didn't understand a word.

2nd was a short film, in terrible CGI, showing the tunnels. This one was definitely propaganda, but at least it had subtitles.

3rd was the walking tour:

•          replica period village
•          punji pits (they never mention biocontamination, apparently that's a step too far)
•          more replica villages
•          single short tunnel - slightly enlarged for tourists - you can duck over and walk decently
•          stop for lunch where we saved at least $2 by carrying everything all day
•          whatever at least the bags are slightly lighter now
•          the stupid hats came in clutch though, super hot out
•          landscape is reminiscent of  Pont-du-Hoc - craters everywhere

4th was a reenactment. They had a field full of broken tanks, and two Viet Cong soldiers stalked around the field between smoke machines, while speakers played the sounds of helicopters, bombs, and gunfire.  Suddenly, two American soldiers show up with m16s on the far side of the field. "I bet they die." Seconds later, they're shot by the plucky rebels, to cheers and applause in the crowd, ending the reenactment.  This was the end of the tour, and I was slightly disappointed we only saw one short tunnel, however: 

5th was the tunnel tour

         Apparently the tunnel tour was an on entirely different ticket! This one starts with us being assigned to various pavilions (we got the English language pavilion) to watch a propaganda film. Legit propaganda, no nuance.... Period footage of men smiling and planting rice with rifles on their back. Some small girl with a sniper rifle being awarded the "Status of Hero for Killing Americans" - No lie that's what it's called. 

         Finally, we finally came to the tunnel-tour! You start with a simple tunnel, only 8 meters long, and enlarged like the tunnel in the previous tour. Obviously a strainer tunnel to sort the tunnelrats vs the surface-rats, but at least it's what we came here for.

The second tunnel was about the same length, but with original dimension - including the opening. The tourguide pointed to the ground, where hidden under the leaves a small rectangle of wood was hidden. And it's small -  you lower your rifle in first, followed but your feet, body, head, and then arms. You need to do arms-last both to rotate your shoulders narrow enough to fit in, but also so you can replace the lid behind you.  If you're fat (or kitted out like a modern soldier), you're out of luck.  Not to mention, it'd be super easy to get shot doing any/all of this. The tunnel itself is duckwalkable, which is a slow and cumbersome process, but definitely easier than any legit spelunking. 

We then did a few more tunnels, these were long enough to feature multiple rooms/cubbyholes, artificial (and not period-correct) lighting, and definitely wore you out. One of these cubbyholes had a well (you didn't want to risk getting shot over potentially contaminated water). Luckily the off-shoots were blocked off so you couldn't get lost, but it would have been a maze back in the day - and these were all the top-level tunnels, during the war there were 3 levels of tunnels reaching 10m deep. These tunnels would let you out in various medical shelters and fighting pits - or occasionally craters.

Another photo Lou just threw in a groupchat :/

The last tunnel was the longest. A short start lead you into a large meeting room - which featured a punji pit in the corner.  Cleverly, this feature was because they knew American troops would automatically flank upon entering rooms, so a hiding a pit in the corner adjacent to the entrance had a 50% chance of eliminating an attacker. From the meeting room, you could take a short tunnel to the surface, or the long, tiny tunnel. Obviously, we took the long tunnel. Bear crawling was definitely easier than duck walking, though a few sections forced you to walk hands and knees. Again, one is reminded how utterly suicidal it would be to attack these.

This last tunnel spit you out at the end for the snack break, where they served Cassava  - the local delicacy. Cleverly, cassava - just like crawling through 100m of tunnels - makes you thirsty and they have water for sale right there! But we saved that $0.50 AGAIN.  And then mom stole the leftover cassava, slipping it into our bags and saving even more money.

We took a brief look at the kitchen so they could show off the smoke tunnels - which would cool and filter the smoke, allowing it to emerge 100s of meters away from the cooking fires - even so, they would only cook just before sunrise, so the smoke would blend with the early morning mists. And that wrapped up the tour. We retraced our morning route, hiking down to the bus stop and catching several rides back through the worsening traffic. Lou - like a true local - slept the whole way, 

Once back in the neighborhood we stopped by the parents of one of Lou's childhood friends, who have a stand selling coconuts full of coconut jelly. It was, for someone who likes neither coconuts nor jelly - better than expected but still gross.

We then said hi the boy we couldn't bring with us, who was still sad over missing out, and had a dinner at home, with cassava for desert. They were in a videochat with ??? in Vietnamese the whole meal, so I don't know if I said a single word the entire time.

We considered heading downtown for the NYE celebrations, but since we're already exhausted and we have an early flight tomorrow morning... we elected to stay in and pack. Possibly because mom would have murdered Lou. We did head out at midnight to walk a lap of the block with her sister, which was quite calm. We could hear some fireworks in the distance, we saw a handful of people chilling like ourselves, but everyone was largely at home and asleep - apparently Lunar New Year (3 weeks away) is the one that matters, and NYE is a non-event outside the bar districts.

Vietnam 2: Slightly less chaos

A quick breakfast pho, a stop to swap some currency, and visit to the mobile shop for a cheap esim ($8/month, 4gb/day, unlimited calls and texts!) and then back into the city on scooters, this time for some governmental paperwork. Yesterdays sandal shenanigans left me with a blister, so today I wore boots - and between the acclimatization, subconsciously learning to adjust my body position to the feel of the engine, and not worrying about losing a thong on the freeway, the ride was way more chill. I do have a new favorite part of the <emergent swarming behavior>: Traffic circles. The bigger and more complicated the better. Thousands of independent actors, reacting to hundreds of stimuli multiple times a second, and all being fed back into the system in an infinitely iterative loop.  Anyways, enough bioinformatics nerd shit, on to government paperwork!

I wasn't allowed in the embassy, or consulate, or whatever it was, so I found a park attached to a nearby bank and posted up with my kindle, enjoying the shade and rubbing fountain water on my arms to stay cool. After a few chapters, Lou emerged from the bureaucracy with a form directing her to another branch of the bureaucracy. We made our way over, and then I settled in with a book for what was sure to be hours of good reading... However I was only a few pages in when she emerged! Apparently you can pay people to deal with the paperwork for you, and they deal with the lines and the forms - and just like that we suddenly had hours of unscheduled freetime!

So we went to the old presidential "palace"! An iconic structure straight out of Vietnamese history and featuring prominently in the War, it's now open for tours and taking selfies at! Apart from the inspired architecture (the house forms several Vietnamese characters from certain angles, in addition to catching the breezes and sunlight from every side), the first thing we noticed was the quantity of tiktoks and instagrams being captured in the front yard, most in full ceremonial dress. As an outsider, it's an odd perspective to see this stark reminder of "defeat" being treated as a stunning symbol of victory and perseverance. but I'm probably reading too much into this. The important part is it's a good excuse and an aesthetic backdrop. 

After checking out the soviet tanks (known for barreling into the yard) and the US fighter jet (known for being stolen from an airbase by a brave hero of the revolution and bombing the palace) we headed inside to check out the staterooms, meeting rooms, living quarters, etc of the palace. While the history was cool, it's a stunning blend of 1960s/70s modernist architecture blended with traditional Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese design principals. And the interior was just as full of sleek design work - especially in the furniture. Classic examples of mid-century modern woodwork abound, and I was more into them than the history.  We wound our way up to the roof, where they have a Huey parked on the roof, next to two red circles denoting the bombing run of the aforementioned F4 fighter. Technically the last chopper out of Saigon was at the US Embassy, but the evocation is powerful and hard to miss. 

On the way down we exited through the bunkers, a set of radio-chambers, armories, shooting ranges, and bedrooms staggered beneath 1m and 2.5m of cement, all well preserved. The classic Mercedes alongside was a good reminder that the "Reunification Palace" (as it is now known) is as much flaunting the spoils of war as a museum. That's an aspect of most museums if you think too hard about it, communists just seem to be more blatant about it.

After the palace, the tickets also got us into a château on the property for an exhibition on the history of the palace, as a lens to review the history of the country from French colony to dictatorship, assassination, and civil war. To be honest, there was little architecture and no furniture so we skimmed the exhibits and quickly moved on.

Having experienced this amazing "touristy" site, Lou wanted to hit more touristy things she'd never seen. The iconic post office is now a tourist trap, and we tried to book a tour-bus around the city but that was a bust due to the timetables. So we went to the Cathedral! Which is closed for renovations. So we went to the famous opera house! Which won't let you in if you don't have a ticket for a show....   Having exhausted the classic "Tourist" things in the city center, we decided to do the "touristy" thing all the locals are doing: Riding the metro.

The very first metro line opened last week, and the second stop is at the opera house! Since it's free for the first month to drum up interest and sell the idea to the masses - everyone is riding it, posting about it (and the need for deodorant) on social media, etc etc.  So we took it out to the end and back! Growing up outside DC, I've been riding the metro since I was in a stroller... which made it cute to see all the first-timers board, form orderly lines facing forward, and grab one handle apiece. Luckily it also means they didn't know the best seat in the house: Very back of the train, so you can look out in all three directions. The line starts off underground, so check out this sweet video. Is this an idea I stole from some random guy in an airport last year? Absolutely. But look how cool it turns out:

After the first three underground stops, the train switches to elevated rails and soars across the city. We took it out all 10 stops to the end, hitting a max of 89.9kph between stations (according to the dashboard), and getting a great overview of how city fades from metropolis to industrial to housing and education as you head out of the city. Honestly, better views and more fun than any bus-tour.  Once we made it to the last stop.... we stayed on-board - along with the vast majority of our fellow riders - as the train switched directions to head back into the city.

On the way back we figured we should pick one stop (metro is free!) to check out, so we picked the waterpark which had an artificial mountain with a giant face on it. The park was closed for the season, but that didn't stop us from taking dozens of pictures for Instagram, just like the locals. What I said before about the symbiology of victory as a cultural backdrop and the psyche of instagram... nah. Totally wrong. Every time the train rolled into a station, there were at least a dozen camera-phones clicking. There were tiktoks being filmed on the platforms, with or without the train there for context. One family got on the train just to take some instagram shots holding the handles and got off at the next station. Turns out any excuse is a an excellent reason, the Vietnamese love taking pictures. [I ran this by my local cultural consultant who said "it's not racist, it's just true."  She's getting a manicure from her sister, while both she and a neighbor are filming.]

As we headed back into the city the train filled to the brim. Not quite as bad as Japan, but very nearly reaching those levels, and we exited the train at the first station (with this cool roof!) in a tide of humanity.  From there, it was back onto scooter-taxis and back home.

The dinner plans were 1) family style at home, and 2) later, go out with friends for food.  For family dinner one of Lou's school friends came by, and we all ate at her mom's apartment (off the same alley). Mom cooked chicken (one of "her chickens"), served with rice and vegetables. As always, they piled food into my bowl, and I did my best to politely eat it all, though I did graciously decline the butt and feet. After some fruit for dessert, another of Lou's friends came by and we all jumped back on the scooters. Quick trip, but at one point my driver asked "do you trust me" before executing a 3-point turn and heading into oncoming traffic - apparently we'd missed our turn by a block. And just like that, we pulled up on the sidewalk, sat down under an awning, and bam, second dinner. 

I was still stuffed, but tried it all anyways. Prawns and clams are still delicious, snails are still gross. Plus one octopus dish that I swear I had constantly in Thailand, but this was made with Mango, not Papaya, which apparently makes it definitely a Vietnamese dish and not at all Thai. I spent most of the dinner following the conversation through snatched loan-words and gestures, but it was still a fun time hanging out with friends / experiencing the more traditional night life. 


Friend: <Serves some octopus>
Brice:  "Thanks"
Lou: "No, use your Vietnamese!"
Brice: "Your mother's a whore"*

*Probably, they still won't tell me what it means.

One post-script: I grabbed a shower (in the closet), and mid shower the whole family came to our room to hang out... they passed me my clothes over the wall, laughing something about traditional Vietnamese experiences.

Vietnam - Chào(s)

Multilingual puns! Chào means "hello" <or something close> in Vietnamese!

Travel to Asia was, as always, terrible. 16 hours to Korea, a layover just long enough to hit a restroom, and then another 6 hours. All in middle seat purgatory.  Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City (hereafter referred to as HCMC or Saigon), there was another hour or so of immigration. Lou was waiting for me (with some friends), up in the reception area, which luckily meant she could direct me to her suitcase via text, because I'd totally forgotten what it looks like.

Driving to her place, my initial impression is.... very similar to China or Thailand, but with a way better nightlife - it's well past midnight, but there are still people chilling on the sidewalk at various bars/restaurants - though this falls off as we get away from the airport and into the residential districts.  Arriving at her apartment, we're faced with a gated alley in total darkness. If my GPS had lead me to an air-bnb here, I'd nope out and find a hotel, but my life is in Lou's hands, so we're going for it.

Lou's place is a classic Vietnamese single-room apartment. A concrete box approx 100sqft (10'x10') and 11' high, consisting of a futon, a desk, a sink, a washing machine, and a closet with 5' walls that contains the toilet and shower. Upstairs (well, up a ladder that hinges away when unneeded) is a loft with another futon and some wardrobes. The loft is just over 6' high, which is a blessing, because it means I only have to duck between for the support beams.   For a poor family, this would be home for 4-5 people.  This is a bolt-hole I've only experienced in cyberpunk literature: 4 walls, no windows, and a sheet-metal door secured by a padlock when you're away and a deadbolt when you're asleep.

I took a quick shower (squatting on the floor to fit), and passed out on my futon pad.

Day 1:

After some broken dreams where I had to employ superposition to fit into an apartment, I finally settled into real sleep and woke up rested at 8am. Maybe. I really don't know what time it is, or really what time even means anymore.  Today is grandpa's deathaversary, so we woke up early and headed out to the street. While waiting for our car, we had breakfast, gossiped with the local women running their shops, and I met my future mother-in-law if (Lou has anything to say about it). Soon, however, our car arrived and we set off into the countryside. 

I wrote previously about how China has lost it's authenticity and isn't the China it was 10 years ago... Vietnam may be that China. I think there are even more scooters here/now, than there were there/then, and none of them follow any traffic laws. They're more akin to birds flocking or fish schooling. I feel like I could survive among them, being one of the fluid whole. That said I could not drive a car here, our driver knowing the local unspoken rules of the road, letting people merge, honking vociferously, and flashing his four-ways or brights at various times. In contrary to the US where a quick flash means "go for it, I see you", in VN it appears to mean "don't think about it, I'll hit you".

Once we escaped the city, the countryside reminded me more of Thailand's industrial districts than China. It's definitely unique from either of them, but my mind can't help but to attempt to triangulate this country among it's neighbors.

I thought we'd arrived at the house, but after getting out of the car we instead headed off down a narrow gravel trail, sized for a single moped, cutting between a swamp and a lemon-plantation (which is really just an organized and replanted swamp).  About an eighth of a mile in we crossed a canal to an artificial island (at least some sort of absence of liquid surrounded by a concentration of liquid) to the house itself.  Open to the elements, lots of shade surrounding it, it makes a lot of sense for the climate it's in.  Around the house were animals (two dogs and a bunch of chickens), and fruit trees (papaya, kumquat, and banana).  I was immediately roped into picking some kumquats because I could reach higher than anyone else, and we paid our respects to Lou's grandfather - a memorial was set up with paper goods, foods, incense, and photos of him and his ancestors.   Then we settled in to wait for the incense to burn out, giving the spirits enough time to eat.... at least, that's the idea. In practice, we waited a bit and then relocated the incense and feasted. Egg rolls, chicken so fresh it was running around under that very table yesterday, noodles with shrimp, it was delicious.  I played the traditional game of not eating first so I could see how it was done, and they played the traditional game of making sure my bowl was never empty, and my cup was always full.

Mostly Lou's aunts and uncles, and a few neighbors from both the city property and the countryside -  including the English teacher I'm supposed to marry. Tamarins were ok but weirdly squishy and sticky inside; a chili pepper was acceptably hot on the first bite, but the second nibble made me want to cry. Lou's aunt chose me as her drinking partner, which mostly consisted of yelling Dzô! (pronounced YO!), or counting 1-2-3 and then yelling Dzô! It was fun. The whole experience was bizarre but charming and an amazing window into another culture. 

After the meal we wandered over to the local temple / community center / maybe someone's house? and then to the gravesite to see where grandpa was laid to rest. Finally, after a last round of drinks, it was time to head out. I rotated a few scooters for some of the aunties, and then we headed back to the car.  In contrary to the trip to the countryside and my first exposure to VN proper, the trip back can be summarized: "I hope we're close. I need to pee. This seems way longer. I need to pee soooo bad. I'm pretty sure I can't damage anything by holding my pee, just push through the suffering..."  When I was about to give up I finally reached to the rear-seats to wake Lou and ask for a status.... and luckily we were only two blocks away.  Anyways, I feel much better now.  

<break>

Lou made me download an app on my phone (possibly VN uber?), hand it to her, and then she started giggling. She wouldn't tell me why, just "we're doing local shit".  Months ago I told her I wanted authentic experiences, and I think she took that as a personal challenge.  Anyways, apparently local shit means "put on your flipflops, we're taking scooter taxis".  All in all, pretty casual. There was a moment where her scooter lost us in traffic, so I had to assume that our driver had the address in GPS or something.... which he did! To my surprise, it was a massage parlor.

We ended up getting the couples massage. Are Lou and I a couple? Nope. Was it a couples massage? Also nope. After a quick bout of suffering in our separate saunas, we passed each other in the hallway to separate  massage rooms.  The massage was actually great, I've never done a proper massage, and 22 hours in middle seats means my back is all knotted up. Then we once again passed each other in the hallways on the way to our separate hair-massage / shampooing / whatever.   That was less great. Overall not that objectionable, but it felt like a massage interspersed with going to the dentist. The worst part by far was when the masseuse worked up a good lather in my hair and then BAM, two handfuls of foam straight to the eardrums. I can't endorse this like the I did the first half.  Finally, Lou and I met up for a couples blowdry.

After that unexpected adventure, Lou once again started texting and not telling me what was happening. In for a penny in for a pound though, and I'm a few thousand in at this point so far too late to start second guessing. We got back on scooter taxis, but this time our drivers were Lou's sister Ut (pronounced Oat!) and my future-wife Giang (pronounced Zainnng).  They took us on a scooter tour of Saigon, and it was awesome. Definitely my favorite part so far. Giang is a much more aggressive rider, which made it that much more fun. As I said before, I think I could survive this on a bike. I definitely could not survive this with a pillion and she made it look easy, while pointing out the sights such as the national bank, post office, the super photogenic bridge). No pictures for this part, at least not from me, as I was holding on for dear life. As we approached downtown, there were festivals happening that really ramped up the traffic/chaos. All the things I love most in life. 

Eventually, we parked and headed into the festivities. The first one we stopped to take in was a practice session for the NYE celebrations. Martial-arts dance crews, banging techno, huge soundstage... it's gonna be a great production. Then we wandered through civic center (the iconic post-office, opera-house, and a statue of Uncle Ho), and made our way to random parkinglots where people self-sorted into various hobbies. There was the dog lot, the RC car lot, rollerbladers... just a fun night culture / street culture overall. Finally, we hit Bui Vien, one of the major "Walking Streets" of Ho Chi Min City...  which is essentially Pattaya packed into 4 blocks. TBH I've never been there, maybe Pattaya is only 4 blocks as well...

Ridiculously loud music, as clubs competed with their rivals across the street, and bars showing the soccer game competed with them. Dancers in skimpy outfits (mostly female, but a few dudes up there too), looking sexy and bored. Buskers trying to push you into their club or bar, almost physically at some points. And a few ladies of the night stalking the crowd and grabbing the hand of any lone man, especially if they're foreign.  That was the other strange point: after seeing no foreigners for days, this street was full of them. One of the buskers I totally ignored even shouted drink prices in euros (1e per beer).  Loud, obnoxious, crowded, but great people-watching.

Having survived the street and made it to the other end, the four of us ducked into an Indian restaurant. The food was cheap but good, and getting off the street to sit down away from the noise was a welcome relief. Afterwards, it was time to take the whole journey in reverse. Bui Vien was even louder and more crowded, but the magic of completely refusing to acknowledge buskers still worked, so not that bad. Eventually emerging on the far side, we ran into a crowd of police. Strange, but whatever. As we walked past they all mounted their motorcycles, flipped on their lights, and tore off down the street.  And a block later, we saw why.

All the scooters in Saigon had descended on the surrounding blocks, and were doing loops while blaring their horns, waving flags, and just generally celebrating the victory of the Vietnamese team in the Asian semifinals.  Imagine a dude standing on the back of a moped, twerking and blasting his vuvuzela, as his bro slowly rolls down the street in a pack of literally a thousand mopeds.  Anywhere they stopped pulled to the side, the police were on them to get them on their way. Apparently this is a thing every time VN wins, and it was chaos incarnate. Again, I love this shit. Apparently not nearly as much as Lou does, and we were forced to physically drag her away.  Thankfully, the marauding was limited to the city-center, which meant that we could avoid the convoys once we mounted up and headed out.

That left only another scooter ride across the city, a bit more relaxing as traffic wasn't as bad now that it was passing midnight. Tearing across a strange city with my "future wife," flowing through traffic like a dolphin playing in waves, it felt like nothing could be wrong in the universe.