Of Marx and Minh

On peaceful, sunset-perfect Sam Mountain, in Chau Doc, Vietnam -- a town which crowds a bend of the Mekong River -- I found myself simultaneously in the most beautiful surroundings, and the most uncomfortable situation. In other words, it happened again; I met some folks that I thought would be normal, maybe good for a drink and a conversation, and they turned out to be completely nuts. All I know is that I made plans with this British / South African couple to go to a place called the Bamboo Bar, on the second floor of glitzy hotel in Chau Doc. Turns out the guy wants to watch The Matrix instead and the next thing I know these two are fighting and I hear the words "Fine! If you want to go get drinks with your American, go ahead!"

Thus furthering my future as a sociopath: all set to move to Montana, grow a big beard and a little garden, eat what I can shoot, write letters to the "govment" which accuse the ""Jew run media" of ruining my life, and call my new independent nation "Lobstertonia" -- I've got the flag all figured out.

I hightailed it to Cam Tho. Now, when I decided to go to Cam Tho I had no idea that there was only one thing to do there, which is, go to the floating market. I thought of the town as just another small stop in the Mekong Delta where I could mess around, take a picture of the giant tin-man "Uncle Ho" statue and proceed merrily on my way. But no. Instead, when I arrived at my guest house, I was immediately harassed about this floating market thing by a man who spoke English incredibly quickly as he pointed to a grubby, laminated, hand-drawn map detailing the floating market trip:

"you leave 5 in the morning, watch sunrise, go to market, very busy, go to another market, see fruit orchard, very nice monkey bridge. 15 dollar."
"uhh, no thanks, I don't think I want to go to the floating market."
"ok, ok, for you, since you are guest at this house, 10 dollar."
"no, it's not the money, I just don't think this is my thing, not into it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Which I did. He was gone when I came back to my room, but 5 minutes later: knock knock. It was a goddamn intervention! Four people came to my door.

"Why you no go to market? You want to go, just four hours."

I should explain something here. There are two reasons that I don't want to go to the floating market:

#1 As much as I'm hassled to buy things on the street (and I hate things) by every single person who passes me, I can only imagine what I would face, stranded in a dinghy, by myself, in the middle of a floating market. Great, I'm buying things while I'm on a boat. (mom, guess what?? I'm calling you from an airplane!!; It's a bowl and it's bread!; a potato-powered clock!!??)

#2 I hate being pressured. Their insistence only fueled my resistance. No, I''m not going. Fuck 'em.

"Look, it's just not my thing alright?"
"just four hour, please, you pay 9 dollar"
"look, why is this so hard for you to understand -- no market!"
"but, all tourists go to floating market"
"yeah, well."

I actually liked Cam Tho town. (Cam Tho races ... doo dah doo dah) The town had a good flow to it, with a nice promenade of sorts by the river, and a floating karaoke barge which I like to imagine pirating other ships on the Mekong, forcing their captives to sing "Hotel California" at knife point.

With no one to know and nothing to do, I ended up playing pool with the bell hop of a nice hotel -- we became friends and now he wants me to invite him to the wedding (?)

But I bought a ticket for Saigon and left in the morning. On my way out, the owner of my guest house took me aside and assured me that the floating market was in fact a ripoff.

Here I am in Saigon, refusing to call it Ho Chi Minh City, though I was greeted with giant billboard depicting a bust of Marx and a bust of Minh in heroic profile. There are gold stars and sickle and hammers everywhere. The economy seems to be pretty sharp here too, they've introduced a lot of private businesses into the city -- very few of which are American.

The best thing here so far was Reunification Palace -- formerly Presidential Palace and at some point Independence Palace. If Elvis had been the president of South Vietnam in the 60's, this is what his Palace / Command Center would look like. Stuffed tiger in the shag carpeted office; barrel shaped bar in the gambling-centered game room; private movie theater; and an indoor garden with a waterfall.

I'll be sticking around Saigon for a while, very much enjoying this city as I re-read Michael Herr's Dispatches and telling people "no thank you" every five goddamn minutes.