Spontaneous parade

Searching for pictures for the last post, I discovered this one, taken on a side street in Ho Chi Minh City.  Four kids having a spontaneous dragon parade in honor of the new year.  Some pretty impressive drumming, too.

Watching the world go by

If you are big, you do what you want.

If you are small, you do what you can.

Everybody honks, but only once.

I waited for the bus for about half an hour today, watching the people and watching the traffic.  I find both fascinating.

Our guide told us yesterday that there are 3,000,000 motorbikes in Saigon.  There are 8,000,000 people, and half of them are children, so this adds up to a lot of motorbikes. 

Our guide, Huang, said his grandmother walked from the Mekong Delta (about 40 miles away) to sell her wares at market.  His father road a bicycle and he has a motorbike.  He hopes that his children will one day drive cars.

"No, no!" we said.  "Fight for public transportation!"  Saigon has no subways or light rail and not much of a bus system.  You see a surprisingly small number of bicycles, and they are almost always transporting senior citizens.  Most of the cars are taxis, transporting Western tourists.  More than 95% of the vehicles on the road are motorbikes.

It's hard to get a picture, because they are darting in and out of traffic.  Here are some verbal snapshots.

Helmets are required, but there does not seem to be any standard for helmets.  I saw ones that looked like batting helmets for baseball, and others where the helmet was covered up by another kind of hat.  As with other laws, there are plenty of people who simply ignore the helmet law.

Since motorbikes serve as the family car, it is common to see young children on them.  Children stand in front of the driver, sit between their parents, and are held in their parents' arms.  Today, I saw several motorbikes tricked out with actual chairs for little ones.  They are real chairs, however, not seats designed for motorbikes.  Those are nonexistent.

Both men and women commonly wear masks.  You see a lot of masks on motorbike passengers, but far fewer on pedestrians, unlike Japan and China, where as much as 25% of the population is wearing surgical-style masks.  Women also commonly wear hoodies or a kind of scarf/hat combination that covers their face and front.  I have seen several children with mosquito netting (though I have not seen nor been bitten by a single mosquito, despite my refusal to use DEET).  Very young children are often completely wrapped up in blankets.

Motorbikes are used for transporting goods home, and for operating mobile businesses.  They might have a big cardboard box strapped to the back, but I didn't see motorbikes with storage built into the design.  And none pulling trailers of any kind.

On the way back to the port, the bus driver came to an intersection, gave a blast of his horn, and turned left on a red light, blending smoothly into cross traffic.  Honking, in addition to expressing your opinion, can signal intent.

Picture Perfect

The muddy water and drab buildings en route were poor representatives of the Saigon we got to see today.

The official name is Ho Chi Minh City, but Saigon is commonly used.  Although the State Department's CSI warns that blogs critical of the government can land you in prison, the government is not much in evidence on the streets of this city, which seemed today much more interested in having a good time than in asserting itself politically.

We are a couple of days into Tết, the new year's festival.  The streets downtown are a blaze of color, with flowers everywhere, of the real and the artificial kind.  Nguyen Hue street is closed to traffic, with block after block of floral displays, like the Rose Bowl parade standing in place.

Many of the stores are closed.  This is a time to dress up and greet friends, not to make money. All along Nguyen Hue, families are strolling from display to display, stopping to have their pictures taken.  Many are in traditional clothing, others are dressed in Western party clothes, and some are in everyday clothing, but cameras are everywhere.

I know it's rude, but it's impossible not to stare at the spectacle, and I surreptitiously take lots of pictures of the people taking pictures.  I love the way they strike poses, as if the camera is a novelty in their lives.  

One group of five people is taking turns.  One person shoots the other four, then another rotates out to be the photographer.  As I often do, I approach and sign to ask, would they like me to take a picture of the whole group?  Yes, please!

I hand the camera back and stroll on.  A moment later, two of them approach me and sign they want to have me in their picture.  They put me in the middle, and each of them makes the V for peace sign as we smile for the camera.  (It's ubiquitous.  I have seen it in Japan, China, and now Vietnam.  Wherever tourists take pictures, they make the V.  No waves, no thumbs up; always the V.)

I imagine the slide show.  "We couldn't figure out what this American lady was saying.  Why did she want to take our picture?  But she was offering to take a picture for us.  Isn't that sweet?"

Later, the favor is returned.  I am taking pictures of the streets lit up, and a vendor comes over and gestures at my wrist.  He's not grabbing at it; he obviously doesn't want my cheap K-mart watch.  He reaches for my camera strap and makes it clear he thinks I should carry it on my wrist.  Lady, you're asking for trouble standing that near to the street without securing your camera better.

Just a simple kindness to a stranger.  Life is full of sweet moments today.

Shanghai songs

Before every port, we have a mandatory logistical preport, where we hear practical information and dire warnings.  So, the weather forecast, followed by don't go into bars, don't lose your passport, don't eat food from street vendors, don't drink the water.  Be wary of people who might pick your pocket, don't give money to beggars, if it seems too good to be true, it is.

Yes, this is important.  One of our students was mugged in Tokyo, and one will have to undo over $8000 to credit card fraud.  A couple reported their drinks were spiked.

However, I find it also increases the distance I feel from the people I meet.   Someone told me a story of a Vietnam encounter where a traveler met a local and struck up a friendship.  Come to my house, meet my family, let me cook you a real Vietnamese meal, none of this tourist stuff.  It turned out to be a con, and the traveler lost several thousand dollars.  As my son said to me before I left, "You don't feel rich, Mom, but to the people you will meet on your trip, you are very rich."

Years ago, on my honeymoon in Haiti, I spent a memorable day with one Monsieur Pierre Odena, an employee of the state tourist bureau.  In those days, the tourist bureau employees attached themselves to a tourist, provided a personal tour, and hoped for a tip at the end.  Essentially, they worked on commission.  M. Odena took us around the city, and then he took us out to a nearby fortress, and then our taxi broke down (repeatedly) and he finally arranged a ride back to our ship with someone whose car was capable of the trip.  This was followed by months of letters from M. Odena, all of which followed the same general plan:

Hello, I am Pierre Odena and I met you when you and your husband were visiting Haiti and can you please send $100 for glasses?

At the time, I was operating on a hotdog and beans diet and couldn't have afforded to buy my own glasses, but, when you are living on less than 25 cents a day, a stamp may be the best investment you can make.

Fast forward to Shanghai, where I am traveling the city wrapped in a tourist cocoon.  I'm on a bus with 30 other Americans, with a guide named Susie who speaks perfect English.  Our third stop is the Shanghai Museum, where we have a pre-recorded audio tour, in case we need more information than is provided by the captions, which are also in English.   Much like an American museum, it is hushed, dark, and beautifully arranged, with a four-story light-filled atrium.  Susie has advised us to start on the top floor, so I am taking a moment to admire the view.  It is at this moment a man nearby asks, "What country?"

"United States," I reply, and he says, "America!  I love American music!  All kinds.  I sing all kinds.  My favorite is 'America the Beautiful' and 'Yarmixianxin.'"  This throws me for a moment, until he starts singing,

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine…

He says, "But I do not know the history of this song.  Can you tell me the history?"  Um, no. 

He sings me a few more songs.  He loves Elvis Presley and Steven Foster and John Denver.  Most of all John Denver.  But also Andrew Lloyd Weber. 

He loves "White Christmas."  I try to teach him Elvis' "I'll have a blue Christmas without you," but he is more interested in showing off his knowledge.  He is very famous in Shanghai, almost a star.  He's been on TV many times singing and playing his violin.  He teaches English to people from 2 years to 92 years old.  Do I have any US money?

Huh?  That one comes out of the blue.  My antennae shoot up.  Why does he need American currency?  (More to the point, why would I give him American currency?)  He is professor of business, very important professor.  He needs to teach his students about the money. 

I am carrying American bills, but all my coins are back on the ship.  Except for one Mississippi quarter I found on the street earlier in the day.  I dig it out and give it to him, but now I am wary. 

He chatters on, oblivious.  He wants very much to travel to the US. He wants to see Hollywood especially.  Hollywood and New York City.  He is not impressed that I live near West Virginia, although he has been singing of its charm (West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home, take me home). 

He wants to show me Shanghai.  We could go for a drink!  He could show me the city.  What's my phone number?  I could move here, I could teach English with him.  I sing very well.

Now, we are clearly over the top.  I am a very nice person, but I do not sing very well.  I haven't been on the same key in any of our duets, and I'm not even singing the same tune most of the time.  All I know of Jeannie with the light brown hair is the title of the song. 

It's time to end the conversation.  I need a picture for the blog post, and then I'm outta here.  A friend from the ship has been hovering nearby and I grab her to take the picture and make a polite but firm exit.  He has given me his mobile phone and his email address, but I can't read his writing. 

We close the concert out with "Edelweis," the national anthem of Hollywood Austria.  He goes high at the end, I go low, and we part company.

Oh, man: omen.

The instructions are clear.  After you get your fortune, you are to TAKE IT HOME.  Why they tell you this, I don't know, because there are racks all over that people tie their fortunes to.  The instructions also tell you it costs 100 Yen (about a buck) to get a fortune, but I didn't see anyone but me following that instruction either.

Here's how it works.  You "politely shake" the container to jostle the sticks inside, and then let one stick come through the hole.  Each stick has a number, and you match it to a drawer.  (This is much simpler to do if you know Japanese, because the numbers are in Japanese characters.)  Inside the drawer is your fortune.

They are not fooling around here.  I got a terrible fortune!  Not "life is full of challenges" or any of the vaguely bad news you might imagine.  Request not granted, won't get better, bad for marriage, trips, job--a total sad sack life, not one ray of hope here.

Not on my birthday, you don't.  I opened another box at random and pulled out a second fortune.  Mostly for comparison--I couldn't believe how harsh #70 Bad fortune was--but also because I believe you can choose to change your life, so why not your fortune?

I like this one a lot better, happier like a ship sails before the wind.

I also find the parallels interesting.  Do they all talk about getting well and tearing down houses?  And waiting for people?

I also see it as significant that the good fortune is more nuanced.  Still won't find the lost or heal the sick, still waiting for that person.

Now I want to go back and get a few more, just to see what variety there is.  But that might be pushing it.  Rules are rules.