As an American in Vietnam

I just read an article in The Economist the other day about how Vietnam was growing like a little dandelion out of the Asian poo hole that it used to be. Hey, that's The Economist's words, not mine (actually, the magazine was much more PC). When I read the article I was like "Hell yeah! You go Vietnam." I mean, call me a veteran-hating, communist bastard all you want, but I seriously became infatuated with Vietnam for the 4 days I visited Hanoi. One reason is that it was my first developing country that I ever visited and it just shocked me. I could understand how the lawlessness and poverty of it all could seem so natural and comforting. No, I don't mean that it comforts me to see poverty and lawlessness.

To begin with, I remember noticing how the roads had no lines and how no one really looked where they were going or at whom they were cutting off, but somehow no one was dying. If that were to happen in the states I'm pretty sure we would all kill each other. Road rage would end America. The horn was just a way to let the person know that they were about to get hit. No one got angry about it; they were actually thankful. Either way, they never looked back. They just turned away from the sound of the horn. If there was more traffic leaving the city (for example) then that side of the road just got bigger and the other side got skinnier. There were not lights at a busy four way intersection. When a side was tired of waiting, they just all teamed up and inched into the intersection to pinch off the flow of traffic, so that they could go.

I remember this vividly because my toes were literally curled the whole ride from the airport to the house. I was white-knuckling the oh-shit handle too. The Heineken I was given didn't relax me at all. I later learned that people actually did get hurt from these methods pretty frequently and occasionally died. That happens everywhere though. Plus, 90% of these people were on scooters, so that equals more pain during collisions.

I had to go to work early the next morning and on the way I saw communism at its best. I'm not kidding. I was loving the fact that everybody and their brother and mother was outside in the parks exercising. The parks were full of people doing odd calisthenics and the sidewalks were full of runners. The whole city wakes up for exercising at 0530 and then goes to work. Hey, I put up with exactly that every day in the Marine Corps and only didn't like it because I couldn't exercise the way I wanted. At least it got me up and got my blood flowing so I could enjoy the day. Hangover days were bad though.

Back on the subject: I was talking to the driver (who was a local) about how everyone there viewed Americans. He told me that they were viewed pretty much the same as most Westerners who traveled there. The newer generations had no real resentment for the war, which they actually call "the American War." The older ones did though. He told me that he thinks that every American hears the word "Vietnam" and thinks "War." I told him that unfortunately he was right.

The place just had a fun feel to it. I went out one night and had a blast with locals and Americans alike. I didn't really take too kindly to finding out that the guy at the Techno club who offered me a couple clove cigarettes was hitting on me. Yeah, no more clove cigs for me, thanks. I met a British cat at that same club who was backpacking through the country. He said he was staying in a hotel and eating three meals a day for about $12 total. He also said that he really enjoyed the people there too. That's about all I remember because he split into two people and starting moving around a bit, so it was hard to focus on him. I think the clover cigarette guy roofy-ed me.