Thursday, December 14, 2006
Good Morning, Vietnam (as the saying goes)
Hello from Saigon (now known as Ho Chi Minh City), Vietnam. I arrived here three days ago after a six-hour bus ride from Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Postscript from Phnom Penh. On my last day there, I met a Brit named Michael who spends three months a year in Cambodia. Michael is 58 years old and on his arm, he totes around a gorgeous 25-year old Cambodian woman named Lynn. Lynn does not speak a lick of English so I gather it's a relationship made in heaven from Michael's perspective. I first met Michael at my hotel as he was staying there too. I later met him in the afternoon at the Foreign Correspondents Club (FCC) which is a popular expat hang-out. Our conversation went as follows:
Michael: I love this place. It's what Thailand was thirty years ago. (Pause.) You might ask yourself what a guy like me is doing with this young bird. I'll be honest. I was happily married for years and have two beautiful children. But there came a day when I said to myself, "I want to be free". My wife and I divorced amicably and I proceeded to play the field with no restraint. I love sex. I live in South Africa part of the year where I have African girlfriends. In Cambodia, I have Lynn. When you enter a relationship with a Cambodian woman, you enter an arrangementwith the family whereby you support them. This is reasonable as the cost of living is not high here. I pay the tuition of her young daughter."
At which point, Michael turns to Lynn and asks how old her daughter is. She replies one is five and the other is four. Michael and I are totally confused and he repeats the question. She then indicates she has TWO children, not one, which comes as a surprise to Michael. He is clearly embarrassed about the fact that he is not aware of this but being the good sport that he is, we have a huge laugh at his expense. He shrugs and sighs, saying "well, that's two sets of school fees for me to worry about". A vignette from life in Asia.
The bus ride to Saigon was really interesting as I saw the evolution from poverty-striken Cambodia to more affluent, booming Vietnam. By the time we reached Saigon, I was in shock. The city is a huge, sprawling metropolis. Every available space is taken with shopfronts and apartments and the roads are clogged with thousands and thousands of motorcycles and scooters. Most of the drivers are wearing either the conical straw hats which are typically Vietnamese or baseball caps with either the full faces covered or a surgical face mask over their mouths to block the pollution. Cause let me tell you, this is smog central, way worse than Mexico City. The other reason that the women are meticulous in covering themselves up is that they pride themselves are keeping their skin as white and tan-free as possible as this is the Asian ideal of beauty. (Poor Cambodian women. Because they are a mix of Indian and Chinese, they have dark skin. This does not keep them from trying. Everywhere I went to find body lotion, I came across "whitening lotions" produced by Nivea, Vaseline, Ponds, etc. Unbelievable. I had the saleswomen cracking up by asking 'Do I look like I need whitening cream?!'
Anyway, I have never seen motorcycle and scooter traffic like this. I thought Phnom Penh was a trip but it pales in comparison to this city. You literally take your life in your hands by either getting on the back of one or attempting to walk across the street in front of them. The golden rule when crossing the street is to NOT hesitate but keep moving forward. The drivers will see you and veer out of your way. Never, ever freeze or attempt to go backwards as this completely throws the traffic flow. Saigon is a study in contrasts. The city is full of designer stores such as Roberto Cavalli, Tods, Armani and Gucci with hawkers selling $1 t-shirts out front. Gorgeous restaurants and trendy bars grace high streets like the Dong Khoi where I'm staying but around the corner are street stalls where people sit on plastic patio furniture and enjoy $1 bowls of pho, the Vietnamese noodle soup (which I'm enjoying for breakfast most days).
Yesterday, I did a full-day tour of the city, visiting several temples, the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum. The Reunification Palace was a study in time warp: it looks like it must have in the 60s when President Diem was based here and had to flee it suddenly when the government came under attack by the Communists. The basement contains a bunker complete with a war command room, rooms of old technology and desks covered with phones. The War Remnants Museum was so powerful. It's set up to be a photo exhibition and series of displays which document the Vietnam War (known as the American War here in Vietnam). It is horrible to see photos showing the bombing and poisoning ofVietnamese people and villages. The museum even shows fetuses deformed from Agent Orange floating in formeldahyde. This is a very effective anti-war showcase which I found to be doubly sad and tragic given the current war in Iraq.
Today, following the theme of war, I visited the Cu Chi Tunnels just outside of Saigon. The tunnels cover 250 kilometres of underground passageways where the Vietnamese lived and fought against the Americans. The tunnels contain three levels: level one being three metres underground, level two being six metres underground and level three being 10 metres underground. There were airholes at different points to guarantee air circulation. Everything was done in the tunnels: cooking, sleeping, making clothes and weapons, tending to the sick and wounded. The tunnels are tiny due to the size of the Vietnamese. Apparently, the Americans had trouble getting around due to their larger size. The tunnels opened up near the Saigon River which provided an easy escape route. The Vietnamese even fooled the German Shepherd dogs which the Americans used to locate the tunnels. Since they knew Americans eat black pepper and spicy food, they put chili and pepper near the entrances. Since the dogs were used to the smell of Americans, they couldn't detect any trace of the Vietnamese. A few of us crawled partway through the tunnels. It was a scary, claustrophobic experience - you couldn't see anything around you and it was hot as hades down there.
Tomorrow, I head for a two day trip to the Mekong Delta.
Michael: I love this place. It's what Thailand was thirty years ago. (Pause.) You might ask yourself what a guy like me is doing with this young bird. I'll be honest. I was happily married for years and have two beautiful children. But there came a day when I said to myself, "I want to be free". My wife and I divorced amicably and I proceeded to play the field with no restraint. I love sex. I live in South Africa part of the year where I have African girlfriends. In Cambodia, I have Lynn. When you enter a relationship with a Cambodian woman, you enter an arrangementwith the family whereby you support them. This is reasonable as the cost of living is not high here. I pay the tuition of her young daughter."
At which point, Michael turns to Lynn and asks how old her daughter is. She replies one is five and the other is four. Michael and I are totally confused and he repeats the question. She then indicates she has TWO children, not one, which comes as a surprise to Michael. He is clearly embarrassed about the fact that he is not aware of this but being the good sport that he is, we have a huge laugh at his expense. He shrugs and sighs, saying "well, that's two sets of school fees for me to worry about". A vignette from life in Asia.
The bus ride to Saigon was really interesting as I saw the evolution from poverty-striken Cambodia to more affluent, booming Vietnam. By the time we reached Saigon, I was in shock. The city is a huge, sprawling metropolis. Every available space is taken with shopfronts and apartments and the roads are clogged with thousands and thousands of motorcycles and scooters. Most of the drivers are wearing either the conical straw hats which are typically Vietnamese or baseball caps with either the full faces covered or a surgical face mask over their mouths to block the pollution. Cause let me tell you, this is smog central, way worse than Mexico City. The other reason that the women are meticulous in covering themselves up is that they pride themselves are keeping their skin as white and tan-free as possible as this is the Asian ideal of beauty. (Poor Cambodian women. Because they are a mix of Indian and Chinese, they have dark skin. This does not keep them from trying. Everywhere I went to find body lotion, I came across "whitening lotions" produced by Nivea, Vaseline, Ponds, etc. Unbelievable. I had the saleswomen cracking up by asking 'Do I look like I need whitening cream?!'
Anyway, I have never seen motorcycle and scooter traffic like this. I thought Phnom Penh was a trip but it pales in comparison to this city. You literally take your life in your hands by either getting on the back of one or attempting to walk across the street in front of them. The golden rule when crossing the street is to NOT hesitate but keep moving forward. The drivers will see you and veer out of your way. Never, ever freeze or attempt to go backwards as this completely throws the traffic flow. Saigon is a study in contrasts. The city is full of designer stores such as Roberto Cavalli, Tods, Armani and Gucci with hawkers selling $1 t-shirts out front. Gorgeous restaurants and trendy bars grace high streets like the Dong Khoi where I'm staying but around the corner are street stalls where people sit on plastic patio furniture and enjoy $1 bowls of pho, the Vietnamese noodle soup (which I'm enjoying for breakfast most days).
Yesterday, I did a full-day tour of the city, visiting several temples, the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum. The Reunification Palace was a study in time warp: it looks like it must have in the 60s when President Diem was based here and had to flee it suddenly when the government came under attack by the Communists. The basement contains a bunker complete with a war command room, rooms of old technology and desks covered with phones. The War Remnants Museum was so powerful. It's set up to be a photo exhibition and series of displays which document the Vietnam War (known as the American War here in Vietnam). It is horrible to see photos showing the bombing and poisoning ofVietnamese people and villages. The museum even shows fetuses deformed from Agent Orange floating in formeldahyde. This is a very effective anti-war showcase which I found to be doubly sad and tragic given the current war in Iraq.
Today, following the theme of war, I visited the Cu Chi Tunnels just outside of Saigon. The tunnels cover 250 kilometres of underground passageways where the Vietnamese lived and fought against the Americans. The tunnels contain three levels: level one being three metres underground, level two being six metres underground and level three being 10 metres underground. There were airholes at different points to guarantee air circulation. Everything was done in the tunnels: cooking, sleeping, making clothes and weapons, tending to the sick and wounded. The tunnels are tiny due to the size of the Vietnamese. Apparently, the Americans had trouble getting around due to their larger size. The tunnels opened up near the Saigon River which provided an easy escape route. The Vietnamese even fooled the German Shepherd dogs which the Americans used to locate the tunnels. Since they knew Americans eat black pepper and spicy food, they put chili and pepper near the entrances. Since the dogs were used to the smell of Americans, they couldn't detect any trace of the Vietnamese. A few of us crawled partway through the tunnels. It was a scary, claustrophobic experience - you couldn't see anything around you and it was hot as hades down there.
Tomorrow, I head for a two day trip to the Mekong Delta.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Visiting the site of The Killing Fields, a dark chapter in the history of genocide
On the first day, I decided to visit sites associated with The Killing Fields, the notorious place outside of the city where thousands of Cambodians were tortured and executed by the Khmer Rouge in its attempts to impose an extreme form of Communism in Cambodia. It is estimated that two million people were murdered in an attempt to purge intellectuals, capitalists, and educated people and build a country based on agriculture. Some extreme measures taken: people who wore glasses were executed as it was assumed they were intellectuals and Muslim Cambodians were forced to eat pork and those who refused were executed. It was so eerie to visit The Killing Fields. Years ago when I worked for the New York Times, I met Dith Pran, the real person behind the movie, The Killing Fields, who was dating a friend at the time.
The actual Killing Fields, called Cheong Ek, used to be a fruit orchard which the Khmer Rouge converted into a concentration camp where they brought people to be tortured, executed and dumped into mass graves. Horrible. The Cambodian government has erected a huge pagoda containing the skulls and clothes of some of the victims unearthed from these graves. There is a short walking tour where you can visit the sites of some of the graves as well as the tree where children were beaten and the tree where they mounted a loud speaker to drown out the screams and moans of those being tortured. After this, I toured the Toul Sleng detention centre which was used by the Khmer Rouge to torture and kill 'enemies of the state'. Before being a prison, Toul Sleng was a high school. It is a very poignant place, more so because some of the rooms were left as they were found when the Khmer Rouge fled. Torture chambers containing metal bed frames, hundreds of shackles and torture instruments laying around. What is most disturbing are the hundreds of photos of the victims ranging from small children to the elderly. The Khmer Rouge meticulously photographed all of their victims, not caring that some of them showed visible signs of torture, some were holding their babies and others had chains and rope around their necks. All I could do was shudder and that day, I just went back to my hotel room and spent the afternoon and evening alone. It's so hard to imagine that this happened so recently (1975 - 1979).
The repurcussions are still being felt. If you look around in Cambodia, there seems to be a total lack of people over the age of 50 years old. It is an incredibly young population, with the vast majority seeming to be under 15 years of age. Cambodians are a resilient people. The country is very poor. I've seen a lot of beggars, land mine victims, children running around naked and malnourished people. But everyone has been kind and polite, always smiling. We from the West are so fortunate to live peaceful, prosperous lives, especially when many Western governments have used places like Cambodia and southeast Asia to wage senseless wars and power politics.
The actual Killing Fields, called Cheong Ek, used to be a fruit orchard which the Khmer Rouge converted into a concentration camp where they brought people to be tortured, executed and dumped into mass graves. Horrible. The Cambodian government has erected a huge pagoda containing the skulls and clothes of some of the victims unearthed from these graves. There is a short walking tour where you can visit the sites of some of the graves as well as the tree where children were beaten and the tree where they mounted a loud speaker to drown out the screams and moans of those being tortured. After this, I toured the Toul Sleng detention centre which was used by the Khmer Rouge to torture and kill 'enemies of the state'. Before being a prison, Toul Sleng was a high school. It is a very poignant place, more so because some of the rooms were left as they were found when the Khmer Rouge fled. Torture chambers containing metal bed frames, hundreds of shackles and torture instruments laying around. What is most disturbing are the hundreds of photos of the victims ranging from small children to the elderly. The Khmer Rouge meticulously photographed all of their victims, not caring that some of them showed visible signs of torture, some were holding their babies and others had chains and rope around their necks. All I could do was shudder and that day, I just went back to my hotel room and spent the afternoon and evening alone. It's so hard to imagine that this happened so recently (1975 - 1979).
The repurcussions are still being felt. If you look around in Cambodia, there seems to be a total lack of people over the age of 50 years old. It is an incredibly young population, with the vast majority seeming to be under 15 years of age. Cambodians are a resilient people. The country is very poor. I've seen a lot of beggars, land mine victims, children running around naked and malnourished people. But everyone has been kind and polite, always smiling. We from the West are so fortunate to live peaceful, prosperous lives, especially when many Western governments have used places like Cambodia and southeast Asia to wage senseless wars and power politics.
Speeding Around on the Back of a Scooter in Phnom Penh
Phnom Penh - what a city! I arrived last Friday after a six hour speedboat ride from Siem Reap. That was an adventure in itself. I was picked up by a tuk tuk driver whom I befriended and ended up acting as my guide around the Angkor temples on my last day. (Despite speaking very little English, he put together a lovely day of exploring some of the smaller temples as well as Banteray Serai, a well-known temple known for its pink sandstone and intricate carvings. He also took me through some 'off the beaten track' roads where I was able to see how Cambodians live far away from touristy Siem Reap.)
Anyway, he picked me up at 6 a.m. and off we went to the pier where I was to catch the speedboat. About three quarters of the way there, the nicely-paved road ended and before us stretched this muddy trail full of huge potholes. I clung to my suitcase and my backpack as we rocked liked crazy. Along the side of the road was the river and beside that, tightly-packed huts where the locals were just waking up.
The speedboat we took was jam-packed with people. Inside, out front and on the roof! In fact, most of the people grabbed seats on the roof. I met this lovely Sri Lankan couple, Para and Cherine, who live in Pasadena, California, where Para works as a Pathologist at a large hospital and as a professor and Chief of Anatomic Pathology at USC. Over the course of the six-hour journey, we became friendly and at times, Cherine and I clutched each other as the boat hit large, bumpy waves. By the time we arrived in Phnom Penh, I was blue black on account of being in 40 degree, sunny, cloudless weather with the wind in my face for six hours. As we exited the boat, we were met by dozens of scooter and tuk tuk drivers offering their services. Luckily, I arranged a scooter driver with the boat manager before I left Siem Reap and when I climbed off of the boat, there was the scooter driver holding up a sign which read "Welcome Miss Deborah". It took us about half an hour to find my hotel, the gorgeous Colonial Mansion, which boasts a lovely French restaurant. It's hard to believe it's located in the heart of crazy, busy Phnom Penh.
How to describe the city? It's a bustling third-world city, full of buzz and motion. Thousands of people on scooters, tuk tuks, bicycle rickshaws, Lexus sports utility vehicles and dozens and dozens of Toyota Camry cars. It's polluted, dusty and run-down in places while a few streets away, there are beautiful, grand French boulevards and some gorgeous Art Deco buildings sprinkled around the city. The main drag is the street along the Tonle Sap River, called the Sisowath Quay, where all of the restaurants, bars, boutique hotels and upscale souvenir shops are located. I have been zipping around the city on a variety of scooters. It's a complete rush to be in the middle of hundreds of scooters, barrelling down the main streets and dodging cars and other scooters. They beep their horns like crazy: to signal a turn, to avoid an oncoming vehicle, to acknowledge a friend.
One very disturbing thing to report. Already in Siem Reap, I was garnering a lot of attention as one of the very few black tourists there. It has now reached a frenzy in Phnom Penh. Yesterday, I visited the Royal Palace, Silver Pagoda and National Museum. Several people yelled, "Hey black" or what I assume to be "black" in the Khmer language. As I entered the Royal Palace, I am not joking but a cry went up and I was confronted with hundreds of people pointing and laughing to themselves. Now I consider myself to have very tough skin but I have to admit this was very uncomfortable as I can't communicate with them and don't have a clue what was being said. It's the first time in my life I was genuinely uncomfortable with the attention I was receiving because of my skin colour. It was so bad that other tourists were coming up to me and commenting on it. In the end, I left because it was ruining my visit. I'm not angry with them as I understand that I am probably the first black person they've seen up close. For some reason, they keep asking if I'm African and when I say I'm Canadian, they just nod their head in disbelief. The reason being that in their minds, Canadians are white people. (A Canadian woman of Chinese dissent said that they have the same reaction to her.)
Tomorrow, it's off on a six-hour bus ride across the border to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam. Now I know for sure these people have had more exposure to black people, unfortunately for a sad and bad reason.
Anyway, he picked me up at 6 a.m. and off we went to the pier where I was to catch the speedboat. About three quarters of the way there, the nicely-paved road ended and before us stretched this muddy trail full of huge potholes. I clung to my suitcase and my backpack as we rocked liked crazy. Along the side of the road was the river and beside that, tightly-packed huts where the locals were just waking up.
The speedboat we took was jam-packed with people. Inside, out front and on the roof! In fact, most of the people grabbed seats on the roof. I met this lovely Sri Lankan couple, Para and Cherine, who live in Pasadena, California, where Para works as a Pathologist at a large hospital and as a professor and Chief of Anatomic Pathology at USC. Over the course of the six-hour journey, we became friendly and at times, Cherine and I clutched each other as the boat hit large, bumpy waves. By the time we arrived in Phnom Penh, I was blue black on account of being in 40 degree, sunny, cloudless weather with the wind in my face for six hours. As we exited the boat, we were met by dozens of scooter and tuk tuk drivers offering their services. Luckily, I arranged a scooter driver with the boat manager before I left Siem Reap and when I climbed off of the boat, there was the scooter driver holding up a sign which read "Welcome Miss Deborah". It took us about half an hour to find my hotel, the gorgeous Colonial Mansion, which boasts a lovely French restaurant. It's hard to believe it's located in the heart of crazy, busy Phnom Penh.
How to describe the city? It's a bustling third-world city, full of buzz and motion. Thousands of people on scooters, tuk tuks, bicycle rickshaws, Lexus sports utility vehicles and dozens and dozens of Toyota Camry cars. It's polluted, dusty and run-down in places while a few streets away, there are beautiful, grand French boulevards and some gorgeous Art Deco buildings sprinkled around the city. The main drag is the street along the Tonle Sap River, called the Sisowath Quay, where all of the restaurants, bars, boutique hotels and upscale souvenir shops are located. I have been zipping around the city on a variety of scooters. It's a complete rush to be in the middle of hundreds of scooters, barrelling down the main streets and dodging cars and other scooters. They beep their horns like crazy: to signal a turn, to avoid an oncoming vehicle, to acknowledge a friend.
One very disturbing thing to report. Already in Siem Reap, I was garnering a lot of attention as one of the very few black tourists there. It has now reached a frenzy in Phnom Penh. Yesterday, I visited the Royal Palace, Silver Pagoda and National Museum. Several people yelled, "Hey black" or what I assume to be "black" in the Khmer language. As I entered the Royal Palace, I am not joking but a cry went up and I was confronted with hundreds of people pointing and laughing to themselves. Now I consider myself to have very tough skin but I have to admit this was very uncomfortable as I can't communicate with them and don't have a clue what was being said. It's the first time in my life I was genuinely uncomfortable with the attention I was receiving because of my skin colour. It was so bad that other tourists were coming up to me and commenting on it. In the end, I left because it was ruining my visit. I'm not angry with them as I understand that I am probably the first black person they've seen up close. For some reason, they keep asking if I'm African and when I say I'm Canadian, they just nod their head in disbelief. The reason being that in their minds, Canadians are white people. (A Canadian woman of Chinese dissent said that they have the same reaction to her.)
Tomorrow, it's off on a six-hour bus ride across the border to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam. Now I know for sure these people have had more exposure to black people, unfortunately for a sad and bad reason.
