Tet in Ho Chi Minh

Everywhere

Coming from Cambodia, Vietnam is a welcome change. Although the two countries share many similarities you notice the differences the moment you cross the border.

The most obvious difference is the sudden abundance of flags. Rows upon rows of very red, very socialist, Vietnamese flags (blood red with a large single yellow star) line the streets, on equidistant flag poles. Although these have clearly been placed by the government, especially where tourists cross the border, most private homes seem to have one too, proudly hanging from window bars, fence poles, laundry lines, etc.

Another visible difference is that the streets are cleaner. Compared to Cambodia (or any other South East Asian country, for that matter) this is like stepping into the bathroom of an obsessive compulsive neighbour. People seem to continuously sweep the pavements, and frequent bin-digging gives away some kind of nationwide recycling scheme. Plastic bottles and cans, especially, seem to be gold dust.

People are very friendly and are stereotypically keen on foreigners. And not just because they are walking dollar signs (which, judging from the prices, they certainly are), but perhaps also because they come with new and different ideologies.

The first question is almost always 'Which country is yours?' or 'Where from?'. Once you tell them, they more often than not give you a few well-pronounced phrases in your mother tongue and recite the capital and perhaps even some famous pop star. That's how good at tourism these guys are.


Party girl

Another notable Vietnamese trait is plenty of nose picking. No matter where you go, you see lots of people very publicly picking their noses. Unashamedly, continuously and energetically. Like gold diggers in Klondike. Police men, travel agents, bus drivers, everyone, shamelessly engage in what is clearly an art form over here. Knuckle deep and absent minded, they search for hidden treasures so far up their nasal cavities they may not find their way back.

Our customs official was the worst (best). As we were going through the customs procedure on the Cambodian/Vietnamese border, this little uniformed man with his disproportionately large officials cap, stood up in his tiny glass booth, clearly visible to several hundred foreign visitors, and proceeded to shove his right index finger so far up his honker that he seemed for a moment to be tickling his brain.

Once he'd struck some gold he would carefully extract it and smear the produce onto his other hand, which he held out, palm up, like an artist holding out his palette. Just like that he continued for a good ten minutes, to the wide-eyed amazement of the queue of waiting travellers.


Tet transport

Once we had passed by this slightly off putting nasal artist (fortunately he didn't handle our passports), our first stop was Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon. For the next few nights we stayed in a very decent hotel in the backpacker district, so central that we explored the city almost exclusively on foot.

Ho Chi Minh City was just as busy as we'd expected, with thousands of backpackers milling around amongst the 5 million or so local residents. Families, couples, gap year students; Vietnam is clearly offering them all a relatively cheap and exciting destination, if only as a passage to the bigger goal, China.

Our arrival in Vietnam also coincided with 'Tet', the Vietnamese (and Chinese) New Year, a time when the entire country takes a week long break to eat chicken, drink watery beer and hang out with the family. Other than the gringo shops most commercial activity stops completely and the Vietnamese sit by the side of the street in kid sized plastic chairs, playing cards and getting drunk.

Like the Chinese, families pass around presents (virtually every child under ten was running around screaming with excitement, carrying fresh-out-of-the-box plastic guns, toy planes and inflatables). We also saw lots of kids excitedly looking through their yearly little red envelope of 'lucky money'. Very cute.


Exploring the yearly little red envelope

Another tradition seems to be the men sitting around and getting very very drunk, in that way that only Asian men get drunk. Perhaps it's that infamous enzyme deficiency, but these guys get burpy drunk after just a few beers. Yet, when foreigners pass, they politely wipe the frothy dribble from their moustaches, put their playing cards down and offer the season's greetings. Ahh, sweet. Asians do make for well-mannered alcoholics.

Meanwhile, wrinkly old ladies sit in doorways and impossibly narrow alleyways and greet each other with "Chuc mung nam moi" which is 'Happy new year'.

The next day, to take advantage of the local tourist sights, we visited the 'War Remnants Museum. Just like the original name of the museum suggests: 'The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government of South Vietnam', this museum is more than slightly one-sided. Despite this, it houses a huge number of fascinating photos of the Vietnam War and, especially, the part involving America's nasty chemical war fare.

Like in Laos we were offered endless evidence of the effects of indiscriminate American bombing of civilians, and the complete ignorance of the lasting effects of using Agent Orange and a number of other deadly chemicals. Still today in Vietnam, more than 30 years after the war ended, tens of thousands of deformed children are born thanks to leaking nerve agents in the soil and water. Nasty legacy indeed. Although shooting bullets is not really cool, spraying chemicals is even less so. Makes one think that even in war there should be rules.

Amongst the tour groups there were quite a few American war vet looking guys, subtly bowing their heads in shame every time the museum video showed more charred bodies. Perhaps they were here to see Vietnam liberated, at last, to the free world, even if that just means Coca cola and Mr Pringles. Or perhaps they were here to finally face their demons of the past.

The next day we sampled some fine Vietnamese breakfast food (the pancakes with dipping sauce are highly addictive). Then we visited the 'Reunification Palace', the former President's palace, in the center of town. It's one of the last sites which the North Vietnamese tanks conquered, and was the place where the 'liberated' South and the communist North Vietnam were symbolically reunited.


In the president's seat

Like good old fishing stories the museum guides offer many well-polished stories of heroic socialist bravery, that undoubtedly get bigger and better with every time they're told.

One in particular, told to us by our very nice but dull guide, was about a South Vietnamese (American backed) pilot who had orders to bomb the evil communist north. But instead of doing this (he was in fact - tadaa! - a communist spy!) he flew straight over to the President's palace and dropped his entire load, causing massive damage. Then he landed safely, defecting, in the North. To this day, our guide told us, he works as a commercial pilot for Vietnam Airlines (who knows, perhaps our flight from Luang Prabang to Siem Reap was piloted by this heroic traitor).


Happy happy

After this museum visit we meandered around the center of town at night, where tens of thousands of Vietnamese New Years revellers had gathered to buy more lucky plastic kids toys and take pictures by enormous municipal flower displays. Communism, for all its disadvantages, does produce some highly impressive city parks.


Late night

And so Ho Chi Minh City will undoubtedly continue. Feasting at Tet, playing cards in miniature chairs, getting burpy drunk and passing presents.

It seems, regardless of historical ideology, national politics or government interventions, there's a deep universal truths for human beings, be they socialist, capitalist or otherwise: everyone likes a good party.

Next, we head up the coast, edging our way further towards the big red.

Bye bye, Ho Chi Minh City. It's been good. Chuc mung nam moi.