STREETWISE CHILD WHERE EAST MEETS WEST

The neon lights of a bar in Pham Ngu Lao

"Saigon hasn’t changed. It’s the same now as it was then. The bustle, the hustle, the prostitutes. Except now there’s more traffic, more pollution. But Saigon hasn’t changed.”

This is the view from Ed, another American war veteran I met who has returned to live in Vietnam again. Ed was in the US Army back then, and served two tours of duty. He began as a company clerk, (like Radar on M*A*S*H) before switching to communications. Since he had an administrative job based in Saigon, his military service wasn’t particularly dangerous. He had a much easier time as a clerk in the big city, than the infantrymen who were out fighting the Viet Cong in the countryside.

Ed tired of the fast paced life in America, and with a soft spot in his heart for Vietnam, he came back to live here two years ago.

“I like Vietnam,” he says. “I like the people. I like the slower pace of life here.”

Ed rented a building in the touristy Pham Ngu Lao neighborhood, and opened a respectable restaurant bar. (There are still some disreputable bars around.) He named it the ‘Buddha Bar’, and runs it with his pretty Vietnamese girlfriend. Ed says proudly of his cooking, “I make a great Po-Boy sandwich.”

Before they took over the property and made it a reputable place, the previous bar here was much different. This locale used to be a darkened bar frequented by prostitutes. It was closed after the Vietnamese woman in charge was arrested. She was jailed for human trafficking, for sending Vietnamese prostitutes to Cambodia. As tourism rises, the Pham Ngu Lao neighborhood is improving. It’s becoming less seedy, and more gentrified.

Pham Ngu Lao has long been a well known neighborhood for budget travelers. It’s packed full of cheap hotels, restaurants, travel agencies, internet cafés and souvenir shops. The low prices bring foreign English teachers here as well. Due to globalization, English is now the second language of almost everyone in Vietnam doing business with foreigners, especially for tourism.

In recent years, Vietnam has seen a tourism explosion. With the war over the borders opened, foreign visitors soon discovered Vietnam’s scenery and pristine beaches, It’s reasonably safe, cheap, and tourism has grown every year since the end of the Cold War.

With the rise of tourism, some businesses in town have taken English names to attract more foreigners. “Big Man Beer” is one warped example. But translation can also be a problem. An oddly named restaurant I spotted in Pham Ngu Lao is called, “Dung Café”. Dung is actually a Vietnamese name here, but I don’t think they get a lot of foreign business.

The buzzing Saigon neighborhood of Pham Ngu Lao, where many westerners stay. 'Dung Cafe' is on this road.

On the sidewalks around the neighborhood, street vendors are everywhere. They  sell sunglasses, street food, cigarettes, watches, chewing gum, shoe shines, and on and on.

As I amble down the street, I hear a voice ask me, “Buy some book?” I turn to see a walking bookseller, toting a single stack of more than 30 counterfeit books. The towering stack is wrapped with a single cloth, and balanced high on her hip. Impressive.

To the long term residents here, flower vendor Ngoc is a familiar sight. Ngoc is a cute, intelligent Vietnamese girl. Only ten years old, she has already been selling flowers at night on Pham Ngu Lao’s streets for five years. Ngoc speaks English, and learned it only through her flower sales to foreigners. She speaks it fairly well, but she’s nearly illiterate, since she doesn’t attend school.

Fortunately Ngoc has been wise enough to steer clear of the foreign pedophiles (you may have heard of Gary Glitter) who have prowled around Vietnam. She often sold flowers or chewing gum to foreign English teachers, who quickly recognized her intelligence. Seeing her need for an education, a group of them took up a collection, and paid for school tuition for her for six months.

Ngoc began attending the school. One month later, she was back on the street selling flowers, and no longer attending. Ngoc’s mother wanted the money from her daughter’s flower sales, much more than she wanted her daughter to have an education.

For the child vendors and child beggars in the neighborhood, the foreign visitors are easy targets. Generous and well meaning tourists give with the best intentions, but they unintentionally keep up a vicious circle. When they give money to a begging child, or child vendor, they’re only condemning the child to more life on the streets.

The reality is that the children get little of the cash themselves. Most of the money goes to the adults who are exploiting them. Fagin would have felt right at home here.

INSANITY OF SAIGON STREETS

With millions of motorbikes in the city, the downtown rush hour resembles a bee hive.

As compared to the rest of slower paced Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon) teems with a fast paced, frantic energy. At no time of day is this more evident than at rush hour, when traffic is taken over by more than three million motorcycles. Walking across the streets during rush hour these days is like taking your life into your own hands.

It wasn’t always so. Until a few years ago, bicycles ruled the streets here. Environmentalists back then were pleased with the city’s low engine emissions, but it wasn’t to last. The turning point came when cheap Honda motorcycles appeared on the local market. These were much cheaper than other Hondas sold here, for one simple reason: they were counterfeit. Many cycles on the road today are actually cheap counterfeits made in China. A genuine Honda runs for around $2000, but a new counterfeit costs as little as $300. The quality wasn’t comparable, but with that cost savings, sales of the faux Hondas took off with a frenzy. Calling them motorcycles is a stretch too. With their bulky frames, small wheels, and 100cc engines, Americans would call them scooters. The Vietnamese refer to them as, ‘mot-a-bikes’.

A restaurant I patronize overlooks a major downtown intersection. From my high vantage point, I look down on a constant flow of chaos. The mass of motorbikes below resemble a swarm of honeybees. Their tendency to drive too close together often results in motorbike collisions, one of the leading causes of death in Vietnam. Just a couple years ago, almost nobody wore a helmet. These days, with increased enforcement and a public education campaign, more than 90% of the city’s riders are wearing helmets. Fatality numbers are down, but in rural areas, those wearing helmets are fewer in number. An odd contradiction, is that countrywide, even when adults wear helmets, children riding with their parents on motorbikes rarely wear them.

Vietnam finally has a helmet law. As seen at left, the US Army helmet style is strangely popular.

The most surprising style of helmet motorbike riders wear, are US Army helmets. After the surrender of the ARVN in 1975, there were hundreds of thousands of these helmets left in Vietnam, and motorbike riders snatched them up. Since they don’t have a lot of padding, these wouldn’t be considered safe for a motorcylist in America, but they are accepted here. Some helmets are US original, others newly made here. The old GI style helmets are still popular enough, that someone in Vietnam decided to continue manufacturing them.

Aside from helmets, traffic safety is not a high priority in Saigon. It’s a common sight to see motorcyclists talking on their cell phones as they drive. Adding to the numbers, are motorbike-taxis, known as 'Xe om', the cheapest way to get around town. It’s common to see Vietnamese overload a 100cc motorbike with four or even five people. This isn't legal, but it gives the traffic police the opportunity to extort bribes.

I know a local staffer of the organization Handicap International. She once told me, “Before we make prosthetics for people who lose leg from landmine. Now, we make more for people that lose leg from mot-a-bike accident.”

A common sight in Saigon: an overloaded mot-a-bike

Given the heavy traffic and lack of enforcement, it’s not surprising that HCMC is one of the world’s worst cities to be a pedestrian. Most sidewalks are uneven, and are often totally blocked by merchandise, or parked motorbikes. This forces pedestrians to step out in the street, into the path of more motorbikes. Pedestrian bridges, which would greatly improve crossing the streets over this mess, are almost non-existent.

At rush hour, when traffic is heaviest, impatient motorbike drivers often drive on the sidewalks, brushing by unsuspecting pedestrians. This caused my buddy Kenny, the Vietnam War vet I know here, to lose his temper one day. When one of these reckless bikers nearly knocked Kenny over on a sidewalk, he took matters into his own hands. Literally. “I shoved him, picked up his motorbike, “Kenny told me, “and threw it out into the street.”

Looking at the never ending stream of rush hour motorbikes, you get a sense of just how crowded this city of six million is. More economic migrants arrive from the countryside every day in search of better jobs. The population density isn’t just noticeable here, it’s a national problem. With 91 million people, Vietnam’s population is more than double what it was during the war years. It's by far the most heavily populated country in Southeast Asia. A rather sexist Vietnamese retiree once told me, “Vietnamese lady are very good baby maker.”

Seeing Vietnamese women driving motorbikes, I noticed them wearing rather curious clothing. They often wear wide hats, sunglasses, a facemask, and long gloves going up past their elbows. Every inch of skin will be covered from head to toe. This isn’t for any religious reason. This is because Vietnamese women are obsessed with having white skin, and want to avoid any tanning by the sun.

In Asia, if a woman has dark skin, it doesn't mean that she's just come back from the beach. Darker skin here means that you are a farmer, or a laborer that works under the sun. Traditionally, they are regarded as lower class. Female farmers wearing traditional conical hats will sometimes be covered in clothing just like these motorbike drivers.

It’s no surprise that the biggest selling beauty product in Vietnam is skin whitener!

WAR SOUVENIR MARKET

This statue at left honors a Vietnamese hero that fought China, not the USA

The colonial clock tower of Ben Thanh market is the unofficial icon of old Saigon. Since Vietnam has returned to capitalism, a landmark from a buzzing market makes a fitting symbol. Like Asia itself, the market is overcrowded, and anxious for money from foreigners.

Unlike air conditioned American markets, the inside is filled with tropical heat.  Crowds weave between hundreds of small stalls, with vendors selling just about anything. There are silk clothes, cosmetics, souvenirs, spices, exotic fruits, live seafood, and snake wine. That’s right, wine made from snakes, complete with a dead cobra still inside the bottle! The wine, and most other goods sold here, are still made by hand. Since this is the heart of the business district, and close to tourist sites, it’s one of the more expensive markets in town. Eager foreigners who visit still find prices cheaper than back home, so they think they’re getting bargains. But there are better markets in the city, with more interesting merchandise.

Out the front clock tower door in the middle of a traffic roundabout, sits a statue of a Vietnamese hero on horseback. This isn’t Ho Chi Minh, but Tran Nguyen Han, a 15th century general who fought the Chinese. A nearby street called Le Loi, is also named for a guerilla leader who fought the Chinese. Long before America’s war here, China occupied Vietnam for nearly 1,000 years. It took centuries of fighting for the Vietnamese to finally kick them out. Fighting for so many years proved the Vietnamese tenacity for enduring long wars, and fuels a still simmering dislike for China today. Yes, the Vietnamese dislike the Chinese, far more than they dislike Americans. Given their history fighting China, it’s not surprising that there are many more statues throughout Vietnam to heroes who fought the Chinese, than there are to those who fought the Americans or the French. It shows who the Vietnamese think their worst enemy was, and who they still fear to some degree.

Having had enough of Ben Thanh market, I search for ‘historical’ merchandise elsewhere. Running between cars, I cross to nearby Duong Yersin street heading for a market with more local flavor, away from tourists. A few blocks down, I reach Dan Sinh market.

Walking in, I note the booths here are crowded even tighter together. There are no foreigners in sight. Walking deeper into the market, I find some unique items. I’ve found the market I’m looking for.

A mass of military gear from several armies is on sale in Dan Sinh market

I first see military clothing from the American, Vietnamese, and Chinese Armies.It’s a strange mix of styles old and new. I look closely for authenticity, since fakes abound. There are backpacks, boots, compasses, fold-up shovels and knives. Some of the goods are modern day US Army surplus. Others are copies made in local shops; even counterfeit US Army patches are made here. I look around, and see US Army, US Army everywhere. There is even ammunition, for rifles and grenade launchers, sold like key chains. These have all been disarmed. Probably.

Soon I come across what look like antiques from the war years, but that’s only at first glance. I’ve heard that many fake antiques here have been artificially aged. There are old looking watches, medals, patches, pins, canteens, dog tags and even class rings. Nearly all of them are fakes.

The most glaring counterfeit examples are zippo lighters. Someone has gone to great lengths to make them look like war antiques. These lighters have been artificially dyed, or even heavily scratched to make them look old and weathered.  They’re engraved with the names of battlefields, or US army units. Some have  wartime catchphrases like “It don’t mean nothin”, or “Live by chance, drunkard by choice, killer by profession”, or “Mess with the best, die like the rest”.  The salespeople fib to me, claiming they’re genuine. “Old from the war,” they say unconvincingly.

Continuing on, I find an exception. I pick up a green steel pot helmet. It’s the old American GI style. As opposed to the other counterfeits, this one has a musty odor, decaying fabric, and rust. This one is actually genuine. The webbing has been altered, to fit a small Vietnamese head. I’ve seen locals use these as motorcycle helmets.

Other booths have more war antiques that appear genuine. There are ammunition cases, canteens, backpacks, flashlights, compasses and mess kits. I’m not surprised to find so much military merchandise for sale. Back during the war the South Vietnamese military was so corrupt, that items such as these were easily stolen, and then sold openly on the black market. In those days, a lot of American military aid meant for the war effort ended up sold on the streets, with the proceeds going into the bank accounts of corrupt ARVN generals.

Helmets, hats and gauges from old US military vehicles are also sold here.

Another booth has piles of gauges that were taken out of old planes, trucks and armored vehicles. After the war most of the old military vehicles ended up in the scrap yard. I inquire about an old, small canvas US army backpack. Worn and weathered, it looks authentic. I quickly learn that the old, authentic goods from the war are far more expensive than the new.

“Forty dollars,” says the stern salesmen. I try to bargain with him, and he snubs me, refusing to bargain at all. That’s a fixed price.

I move on, exploring further into the market, and find another booth with disorganized piles of military gear. Stacks of old photos catch my eye, and I thumb through them. They’re all black and white, darkened by age, and printed in old styles not seen anymore. These are also genuine. In between old family snapshots, I come to many pictures of soldiers in uniform. These were personal soldier’s photos from the the old South Vietnamese Army, officially called the Army of the Republic of Vietnam(ARVN). There are numerous photos of these young men, America’s former allies. Some proudly wear their full dress uniforms. Others are posing with friends, leaning on each other, relaxing.

I purchase one black and white photo, showing four anonymous ARVN soldiers. They are seated on the ground, wearing their helmets, brandishing M-16 rifles. Looking scarcely older than 18, they were probably draftees.

“Where did you get all these photos?” I ask the saleslady.

“Danang,” she says, and gives no further details.

I look at this old photo and wonder what happened to these four young men. There were so many difficulties ahead for these soldiers. When the war ended, most captured ARVN soldiers were imprisoned. These photos are faces from the past, looking at me from across time. How many of these young men survived the war? Did any escape as refugees? Where are they now?

THE FORMER SAIGON

Notre Dame Cathedral, built during French Colonial Years. Vietnam has more than 6 million Catholics.

I return another day to walk the best preserved section of Dong Khoi. Once known as the Place Garnier, it's now called Lam Son Square, where I step into the Caravelle, one of the most luxurious historical hotels in town. This was a favorite of the international press corps based in Saigon during wartime. NBC, CBS, and ABC had their Saigon bureaus in the Caravelle. From here their offices sent out television crews that covered battlefields all over South Vietnam. This old hotel became the headquarters of the world’s first TV war.

A who’s-who of America’s top journalists made the Caravelle their Saigon residence. Legend Walter Cronkite stayed here, as well as Pulitzer prize winners David Halberstam and Peter Arnett. Vice President Richard Nixon slept here, as did President Bill Clinton, who finally re-established America’s diplomatic relations with Vietnam.
 
Taking the elevator to the tenth floor, I step into what is now the Saigon-Saigon Bar. I grab a table with a view, order a Tiger beer, and check out the scene. As traffic buzzes below, I peer out across the rooftops of the teeming city center. Down at the end of Dong Khoi, the dual spires of the Notre Dame Cathedral reach for the heavens. The 19th century neo-Romanesque building was once the tallest in the city. It has since been dwarfed by other buildings, as skyscrapers begin to dominate the skyline.

Nearby expat bar 'The Office'. No hanky-panky with the waitresses. How about a nice game of darts??

With such a commanding view of the city, this rooftop bar became a journalist’s favorite, as a place to drink and trade information. In his famous book “Dispatches” Michael Herr wrote about the fall of Saigon as viewed from this bar, known then as ‘Jerome and Juliette’s’. During the various times of violence in Saigon, whether it was a coup, or the Tet Offensive, or the fall of Saigon, some members of the foreign press corps gathered up in this top floor bar. From their high panoramic vantage point, they’d look down and watch the fighting around the city, holding a cocktail in hand. Some correspondents claimed that they could cover the war solely from this bar, without ever leaving their bar stools.


When the final offensive came, the few die hard journalists still up here watched as American helicopters evacuated westerners and refugees from Saigon. A few blocks down Dong Khoi, a Huey landed on a rooftop, making the final flight to bring out refugees. With so many refugees on the roof, most were left behind. A UPI photographer captured the dramatic moment on film. Although the building was an apartment house for CIA employees, an editor misidentified the location as the US embassy. The photo with its errant caption appeared in newspapers around the world, and it became the most iconic image of the war’s end. I’m reminded that even with a free press, the truth doesn’t always come out.  

The famed Hotel Continental in Saigon (photo: Wikipedia)

With so much conflict around Saigon, there was only one attack on this hotel, a bombing in 1964. A few people were injured, but nobody was killed. Since the bombing occurred near mid-day, all the journalists were out on assignment. By the war’s later years, the Viet Cong may have decided that the foreign journalists were a benefit to their cause, and left the Caravelle alone. In 1975 the government took over the hotel, and renamed it the Doc Lap (Independence) Hotel, only to change it back to the Caravelle later.

Looking across the square is one of Vietnam’s most romantic locales, the 19th century Hotel Continental Saigon. Room 214 had a famed long term resident, the author Graham Greene. His stay here during the 1950’s was a time when the French empire was declining, and American influence here was rising. Here Greene wrote the novel ‘The Quiet American’, about the intrigues of the time. The book became a movie in 1958, and was remade on location here in 2002 starring Michael Caine and Brendan Frasier. Just across the square, the production filmed a a terrorist bombing scene outside the Continental. Now foreigners were shooting film here, instead of bullets. This was groundbreaking; the first western studio production to film within Vietnam since the war’s end.  

After the communist takeover, the Continental became the Dong Khoi Hotel, before reclaiming its colonial name. Both the Caravelle and the Continental have gone through extensive renovations, and both had their boomerang name changes. With the economic liberalization of the south, some of the neighborhood’s old names are coming back. The Vietnamese government finally figured out that nostalgia can be very profitable. 

The famous Saigon Opera House in 1915. This landmark still stands today. (Photo: Wikipedia)

Between the two famous hotels, is the Saigon Opera House. Built by the French it later was the National Assembly, before becoming the Municipal Theater in post-war days. It’s a picturesque vision of French architecture, save for the bar now open in the basement. 

The neon lights and girlie bars are long gone from this old street, but Dong Khoi continues to be a focus of controversy. In 2008, as the Olympic torch passed through town on its way to Beijing, a small group of Vietnamese men gathered on the front steps of the theater. They held up signs in Vietnamese, English and Chinese, demonstrating against Chinese foreign policy. They were soon arrested. A well known rights activist among them was later sentenced to 30 months in prison.

That same year six Vietnamese democracy activists, including novelist Nguyen Xuan Nghia, were arrested and charged with such heinous crimes as hanging banners in public places, distributing leaflets, writing poems, and posting internet articles calling for more human rights and democracy! A Human Rights Watch spokesman said of their arrest, “There’s no question that the only offense these people have committed is to peacefully advocate for political pluralism and human rights.” 

That non-violent demonstration at the municipal theater was tame, compared to a more outrageous act of free speech from the previous decade. Back in 1993, an ex-ARVN Major and an accomplice hijacked a flight out of Tan Son Nhat Airport. The former soldier didn’t make any demands, other than to order the pilot to circle the city. He then threw anti-government leaflets out of the plane, scattering them across HCMC. He attempted to escape by parachuting out of the plane, but the police caught him anyway. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison.  

D.B. Cooper would have been proud. 

WHERE THE ACTION IS: SAIGON

A modern day view of the Saigon River from the Majestic, one of the city's oldest hotels.

District 1 is where the action was, and still is, in the former Saigon. This downtown zone includes stunning French colonial architecture, government buildings old and new, and famous hotels that the international press corps used to call home. After years of communist stagnation, the heart of the city is bustling anew once again. The promise of foreign investment has brought big business and foreign corporations back into Vietnam. The country joined the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) in 1995, and later the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 2007. With so much money returning to town, the resulting construction boom is forever changing the old city’s skyline.

     
Since it’s a lovely sunny day, and since the downtown is fairly safe, I decide to make my way around on foot.I begin at the Bellevue, an open air restaurant bar high on the old Majestic Hotel in the heart of District 1. Standing at the railing, I take in the scene of the Saigon River, and the best riverfront view in the city. This colonial hotel dates all the way back to 1925. During that time when Europeans arrived on the docks in front of me, the territory was known as Cochinchine. Affluent French colonists, weary from their long journey, took their first steps onto their conquered land onto the river walk below, before checking into the Majestic to rest from their long voyage. Atop the rustic hotel, I watch the ferries and cargo boats make their way steadily back and forth across the flowing brown waters. The craft chug along slowly, with the relaxed pace of Asia. It wasn’t such a serene scene here when the French left in the 1950’s, as their colonial empire was collapsing.

     
“We were evacuating the French. They were getting their butts kicked,” my Uncle Jim once told me, of his time on the Saigon riverfront. Then he was a US Navy sailor, aboard the destroyer USS Walker. “We were loading up the French nationals and taking them out.”

The former colonial masters had become refugees. They were loaded onto LST’s, and taken north to Taiwan. LST means “Landing Ship Tank”, and these flat bottomed navy vessels were used to transport troops and cargo. Only this time, the LST’s were crowded with so many French civilians, they didn’t have room for cargo. 

Hot drinks in Vietnam today

"They would only let them leave with one small suitcase, my Uncle Jim recalled. "They showed up there with grand pianos, and their cars. They had to leave them all on the pier." With all the excess baggage and debris crowding the dock, what wasn't looted was pushed by a bulldozer onto a barge.  He believed it was taken out to sea, and dumped overboard. With the chaos of those days, my uncle never even made it off of the destroyer. "I didn't want to get off the boat," he said of that troubled time. "My sailor outfit would have made a good target."

Later during the American war years, American military officers and diplomats stayed here at the Majestic. Hotel guests with a riverfront window occasionally had a front row seat to the war too. Looking across the river, jets would occasionally bomb Viet Cong positions on the opposite side. The hotel wasn’t immune. Shortly before the fall of Saigon in 1975, an NVA rocket slammed into this hotel, destroying the penthouse suite.

Looking around, I see guests here are rich tourists and businessmen. Like the city, the Majestic is making a comeback. Downstairs the hotel has a casino, but Vietnamese are barred from entry. Apparently, they only want to suck money out of foreigners. Since I only came here for the view and not a meal, I head to the elevator and step onto the streets. Across the way, I see a coffee shop, the Catinat Café. This is a rare reference to this street’s former French colonial name, the Rue Catinat. For decades, this street had a very seedy reputation. Back in the days of Cochinchine, the neighborhood was well known for its opium dens. The Saigon of old has been called many things. ‘Pearl of the East’. ‘Whore of the Orient’. The odd thing is, various writers of old have labeled colonial Shanghai and Singapore with the same names. Any way you look at it, all three of these locales are former colonial cities with dark pasts.

A few doors down is Maxim’s, catering to rich Vietnamese. Open since 1964, it’s a rare business still open from the war years, thought it's evolved. Besides offering live music and cabaret shows, they have succumbed to the Asia craze of karaoke.

When the French era ended, the Rue Catinat took on a new name. Reflecting its new independence, this road became known as Tu Do Street, which meant Freedom Street. During the American era, Tu Do was the most infamous street in all of Saigon. Back during those years, Tu Do resembled Las Vegas, with countless bright neon signs. There were many night clubs and bars here, catering to American soldiers and the local elite. The street was full of prostitutes, hustlers and drug pushers. One of the streets more notable residents was the journalist Sean Flynn, son of the movie star Errol Flynn. The well known star of ‘Son of Captain Blood’ had turned his back on Hollywood to make a name for himself in Vietnam as a war correspondent. In between his trips to the battlefields, Flynn used to live in an upstairs apartment on this seedy street. Like many in the 1960's, Flynn did his share of drugs, so he fit in just fine on Tu Do Street. Along with the rest of the city today, the street has changed quite a bit. The bright neon lights of Tu Do’s girlie bars are gone now, although there are a couple of low key ‘lady bars’ and massage parlors still in the neighborhood. Most of the street is now a respectable part of the city. This also means more expensive. Many of the shops here now are high end boutiques selling fashionable clothing, expensive jewelry, and artworks.

Vietnamese woman in District 1 stands atop a 4th floor balcony. 
No elevators here.

The strangest shop on the street today is named ‘Old Propaganda Posters’. Taken from the American war years, these framed posters prints are sold as souvenirs, a curiosity from days gone by. Here they sell brightly painted scenes of smiling Vietnamese cadres, gun toting soldiers, and old Uncle Ho. Smiling workers labor in the rice fields. Viet Cong militia take aim at high flying American jets. These prints are now fairly rare, you never see anti-American posters in public anymore. With the war long over, they’ve been replaced by billboards and advertisements. The Vietnamese government now seeks more American contact, not less. 

Out on the street, a cyclo rolls by, with an old driver pedaling along a mother and child as passengers. If you’ve not seen a cyclo, it looks like a backwards tricycle. A one speed bicycle makes up the back end, with a covered chair between two wheels at the front. Saigon once had many thousands of these cyclos, but few are left now. Those that remain are used mostly for tourists. Many cyclo drivers are ex-ARVN soldiers, or former civil service professionals from the old regime. Banned from their old jobs, this was the only work that they could get in the city.

Coming up the sidewalk, a group of schoolboys no older than eight approach me. The bravest one asks, “Hallo, how are you?”

“Fine,” I reply, “and how are you?” They answer by giggling and smiling, and the whole group scampers away. White foreigners are still something of a novelty to many Vietnamese. 

With dinner time nearing, I look for a place to dine. During the 80’s there were few eateries left in town that catered to foreigners. These days there are downtown restaurants of every style. Italian, French, Indian, Japanese, American food, and more. Economic liberalization brought about an explosion in culinary diversity.

A band performs in the dimly lit Tu Do Liberty Bar, 
on what is now Dong Khoi Street.

I stop in a basement restaurant aptly named, “The Underground Bar and Grill”. Although British themed, the chef is French. I order lunch, and then head for the pool table for a game of nine ball. As I play, I look around at the patrons, and notice two odd couples. Each has an older European man, sitting with a much younger, much better looking Vietnamese woman. Indeed, one of the men looks old enough to be not just his girlfriend’s father, but grandfather. Of course, these kind of relationships aren’t unique to Vietnam, they happen in many poor countries. Old, divorced men come to find a young pretty girlfriend or wife. Many attractive young Vietnamese ladies hope to marry an older westerner, seeing it as their ticket out of poverty, and as a way to help their families.

I lose at nine ball, and a waitress approaches, bringing my food. She asks, “Where you from?”

“America,” I answer, wondering what her reaction will be.

“I like America,” she says with a big smile. It seems my country has a better reputation here than I expected.

On my way out, I’m amused by a poster on a bulletin board. “Don’t miss, ANNIE GET YOUR GUN. VIETNAM’S FIRST FULLY STAGED BROADWAY MUSICAL! Featuring the Ho Chi Minh City Ballet Symphony Orchestra and Opera, with the International Choir of Ho Chi Minh City, and The Saigon Players. Showings at the Hung Dao Theater.” I wonder, could it be that Ho Chi Minh City is developing a taste for American musical theater? I don’t think they’ll be showing ‘Miss Saigon’ here anytime soon though.

Back out on the street the sun’s gone down, and I pass by old shop house boutiques. Colonial shop houses were built tightly together, packed one after another. There are still plenty of these in the city, but in District One they are increasingly being torn down to be replaced by larger, modern structures. Continuing down the street, I reach a construction site taking up a large section of the block. Plans are for a skyscraper to be built here. The name of the development is not befitting Vietnam: ‘Times Square’. HCMC hopes to emulate big time capitalism, at least in name.

Back when the communists took over in 1975, they didn’t want anything resembling ‘freedom’ to be seen in Saigon, so Tu Do street was renamed ‘Dong Khoi’, which translates as ‘Uprising’. (This refers to the 1960 rebel uprising against the old dictator Diem’s regime.) In recent years, those restrictions have been relaxed. Down the street I see a reference to the street’s old name, the Tu Do Liberty Restaurant Bar. This ‘Liberty’ restaurant is owned by the communist government. The downstairs restaurant has live music, and there’s dancing upstairs. I climb the stairs to check out the second floor entertainment. 

Walking in, I’m met with a dark scene. The lighting is very dim, and my eyes struggle to adjust. There is only low lighting surrounding the bar, with stage lighting illuminating the entertainment. I’m directed towards some dark tables, but I grab a bar stool instead.

Up on the stage, an older chanteuse in an evening gown is belting out a Vietnamese love song, accompanied by a five piece band. The manager tells me she’s famous in Vietnam, although I wouldn’t know the difference.

After a few minutes, my eyes adjust, and I finally see who’s at the tables. There are much older Asian men, sitting and drinking with young Vietnamese women. It turns out these women work for the bar. I’ve come upon a ‘hostess bar’. Vietnamese men with money come up here to drink and chat with the pretty young hostesses, who keep pouring them more drinks. These couples are much like the others I saw over at the Underground, except that here, they prefer to cozy up in the darkness. In HCMC it’s common for rich men to leave their wives at home, and take out their mistresses to a dimly lit club like this. They have less chance of being seen snuggling here in the dark. For them it’s all about appearances really.

I leave the couples in the dark, and return to the street, with a brighter building facing me on the next block. It’s one of the tallest in town, the 23 floor Sheraton Saigon. With its high end shops and restaurants, it’s for foreign businessmen and tourists with deep pockets. Would you like the Presidential Suite? It will only cost you $2,000 a night, which is more than most Vietnamese earn in a year. I move on.

AMERICAN WAR VET IN VIETNAM TODAY

View from Marble Mountain on coast near Danang. Kenny's old Marine base was located down this road.

When I first met Kenny in Vietnam, I never would have thought that this easygoing American had a rough and dangerous past. His voice is pleasant and calm. He’s a man that seems comfortable with himself, and with his current surroundings in Vietnam. He’s big, tall, and in great physical shape. You wouldn’t think that he’s 61 years old. His name fits his personality well. it’s not Kenneth, or Ken, it’s Kenny. He’s a plain talking, friendly mid-westerner from Iowa with an eagle tattoo on his forearm.

An English teacher friend introduced us, and with Kenny’s easygoing demeanor, he was always good to chat with over a beer. It was during these chats that I learned about his military past.

Kenny is a former US Marine, who served as a medic with a Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol (LRRP) back in 1969. Nicknamed, ‘Lurps’, they were much like commandos, an elite unit that often fought behind enemy lines. Although he was based just south of Danang, Kenny spent much of his time in the field across the border in Laos. There he took part in dangerous reconnaissance missions along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the infamous supply line of the communist forces. This was at a time when ‘officially’, there were no American soldiers fighting in Laos.

Sometimes his unit operated in jungle so dense, that there weren’t clearings big enough that would allow helicopters to land and take them out. On those missions, helicopters had to hoist his unit out of the jungle, lifting them above the forested canopy on the end of a long cable.

As a LRRP medic, Kenny had to be not just a fighter, but also a field doctor, treating the war wounds of many of his fallen comrades. Taking part in many dangerous missions, it wasn’t long before he was wounded himself. He saw the worst side of war. The Vietnam War left many strong men physically and emotionally scarred, including Kenny.

After he returned to the states, like many Vietnam veterans, Kenny faced a difficult life. He had a series of failed marriages. At one point, he was living out of a van. He basically went from being an elite soldier, to a hippie.

With his background as a medic, he knew a lot about drugs. After he left the military, he became a heroin addict. But Kenny’s tough. Over time he eventually overcame his heroin addiction. As he grew older, another challenge came along: throat cancer. Kenny beat that too.

These days Kenny is still affected by Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from his war experiences. “I still have nightmares,” he once told me, “but not as much as I used to.” More than anything else, Kenny is a survivor.

When America’s soldiers finished their tour of duty in Vietnam, most left and never came back. Kenny is a Vietnam veteran who not only returned, but he now calls Southeast Asia home. He doesn’t keep a regular apartment. He spends a lot of time living in guest houses between Vietnam, Cambodia, and other countries in the region. He also speaks Vietnamese, not fluently, but well enough to get by.

For the most part, Kenny has come to terms with his past, and is proud of his military service back in the 60’s. “I’m still Semper Fi,” he says, a shortened marine mantra which means, “Always Faithful”. When Kenny walks down the street, he still stands tall, with the good posture and confident step that he learned as a young marine.

Children play in southeastern Laos river near the former Ho Chi Minh Trail, Kenny's unit fought near here

Kenny’s been free of heroin and other hard drugs for years, but he’s still no angel. Today he sometimes smokes marijuana, and occasionally patronizes prostitutes. He’s no wild man though. He prefers to spend more of his time sharing stories with friends over a cocktail, relaxing and playing pool. I played him a sometimes, and rarely won.

Despite all that Kenny’s endured, he has a balance to his life now, and seems to have found peace with himself. As a result of the PTSD, he now gets disability and social security. With the low cost of living in Vietnam, this gives him more money than he needs. He wouldn’t call himself retired though. Kenny  occasionally leads scuba diving trips around southeast Asia. These are not trips for the weak; he runs them similar to how things were back when he was a marine. His tours cover multiple countries, traveling fast, while getting in as many scuba dives as they can.

“I don’t need the money. I do these trips to give myself something to do,” he told me. Scuba diving is a passion for him.

One day, Kenny was at a train station in Vietnam, and an older porter came to help him with his bags. Being his friendly self, and speaking some Vietnamese, Kenny struck up a conversation with him. It turned out the porter was also a war veteran, a former soldier of the North Vietnamese Army. After the two spoke for a while, Kenny discovered that this old soldier had also fought in the same valley of Laos where Kenny used to fight along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. It was possible that their units had even fought against each other. Like Kenny, this old soldier had been wounded too.

But that was years ago. All the old hatreds were gone, and the past was past. When before these men would have quickly killed each other, now they could talk and share stories.

Kenny has his pension, so he isn’t in need of anything. On the other hand, the other old veteran’s pension is very small, which is why he still has to work as a train station porter.

Before they parted, Kenny held out his hand to his old adversary. “Peace,” Kenny said to him.

The other veteran shook his hand, and smiled. ”Peace,” he said back in agreement.

 The old hatreds between these two old warriors, had been replaced with mutual respect.

WELCOME TO VIETNAM

As the jet descends out of the sky into Tan Son Nhat Airport, I peer out the window. Through the overhanging haze I get my first view of the former capital of South Vietnam, a country that no longer exists. In what is now called the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, a vast cityscape stretches below as far as the eye can see. This is my first view of a land that was home to an unwinnable war that haunted my country for decades.

"Welcome to Ho Chi Minh City," the flight attendant cheerfully announces after we touch down. I'm reminded that this place is not called Saigon anymore, at least not officially.

As the jet taxis around the airport, observant passengers peering out the windows notice some of the war’s old leftovers already in view. In a field off the runway, a couple of old army bunkers sit empty and unguarded. This vast airport is peaceful now, but it was also a battlefield. These grounds were once the sight of fierce fighting between American soldiers and the Viet Cong during the Tet Offensive of 1968.

As our jet lumbers towards the terminal, we pass a series of brown, half-cylinder shaped hangars that once housed US military aircraft decades ago. Looking over the wall, I see some of those hangars are still in use by Vietnam's military today. Out in plain view are bulky Russian helicopters, with a slender Russian helicopter gunship parked in the shade. I’m also shocked to see the last aircraft I ever expected to see in this airport: several American made Huey helicopters! These old choppers, the most iconic symbol of the war, are some of the very same helicopters used by the US Army to attack the Vietnamese communists so long ago.

Tan Son Nhat's new international terminal, a sign of Vietnam's push for modernization. (photo: Wikipedia)

When the war finally ended in 1975, Vietnam’s communist government found itself in possession of several hundred captured Huey helicopters. These had been given to the South Vietnamese military, and many were in good condition. These days they aren’t used often, but they have kept more than a few of them in working order. I'd like to snap some quick photos, but if I was seen, taking photos of the military section could get me deported.

These old military reminders here seem rather out of place; it’s mostly commercial airline traffic at the airport these days. All of those American fighter jets that were based here during the war are long gone. But as I look out the window at the terminal gates, I see a familiar sight. Among the many Vietnam Airlines jets at the airport, some of them are American made Boeing 737s. American military jets have been replaced by American civilian passenger jets. I never would’ve guessed that Boeing is now a major supplier for Vietnam Airlines. Well, the war is over. America and Vietnam are at peace, and business between the two former enemies is now growing, even for aviation.

Our flight pulls in at a gate at Tan Son Nhat Airport’s new international terminal, opened just a few years ago. This is no drab communist structure either. Years in the making, the new terminal’s architecture has an open, industrial style; both artistic and modern. I’m starting to see Vietnam’s efforts at modernization. New visitors like me get their first contact with the Vietnamese government at  immigration. Having been through passport controls in former Soviet countries, I expect long lines. But the new arrival hall has 20 lanes open to stamp passports, so there’s little waiting. Immigration here is even faster than back home in the states. The only things old fashioned here, are the uniforms of unsmiling  immigration officers. They are dark green in style, like the uniform of the old North Vietnamese Army (NVA). Old style uniforms in a flashy new airport seem an odd contradiction.

As luggage is collected from the carousel, the baggage tags list their destination code: SGN - meaning Saigon. How strange.

I wonder, Isn’t the official name of this place now supposed to be Ho Chi Minh City? It turns out that for everyday use, the old and new names are more or less interchangeable. This city may be charging into the future, but below the surface the past is never far away.

I grab a taxi, and head out of the airport. Driving along the cities main streets into downtown, my view is bombarded by billboards and neon signs. I’m surprised to see that the propaganda of communism has been replaced by commercialism. Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) is all about making money now; capitalism has risen again. The old southern capital is now the commercial capital of the country, ironic, since the city was renamed after an hardcore communist. Although Ho Chi Minh died back in 1969, it wasn’t until after the war in 1976 that his communist successors renamed Saigon as Ho Chi Minh City.  Old Uncle Ho would have turned over in his grave over the name change. Although he was the undisputed leader of North Vietnam, Ho was well known for his humility. Had he lived after the war, he never would have allowed Saigon to be named after him.

A comparable example, would have been if a similar name change had occurred after the American Civil War. Picture this scenario: after the surrender of the southern rebels, victorious unionists of the north announce a declaration. The city of Atlanta, would no longer be known as Atlanta. Thereafter, it would be officially renamed, ‘Abraham Lincolnburg’. How ridiculous.

When conquering Vietnamese communists from the north announced that Saigon would be renamed Ho Chi Minh City, this caused further resentment among southerners. Even today, most of the city’s residents continue to call the city by its former name.

Curious, I asked a Hanoian what she calls the city. She answers, “When I’m in the north, I call it Ho Chi Minh City. When I’m in the south, I call it Saigon.”

INTRODUCTION: WHY ON EARTH GO TO SOUTHEAST ASIA?

Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Mention these countries to Americans, and most immediately think of unending war, and communist rebels. Forbidding jungles, and mysterious mountains.

Ancient Cham ruins in Vietnam. This former Viet Cong hideout was heavily damaged from war's destruction.

When I first told friends that I was going to live in Southeast Asia and travel extensively through these countries, their first reaction was between shock and surprise. Then came the inevitable questions.

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Don’t the people there still hate us?”

The questions were understandable, since these were the lands from America’s longest 20th century war, the first war America didn’t win. The cold war quagmire spread across Vietnam’s borders to include Laos and Cambodia. Faraway places that Americans had never heard of before the conflict, became infamous: Saigon and Khe Sanh. Hanoi, and the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Phnom Penh, and the Mekong River.

As news reports on the conflict flooded the media, military acronyms became part of the American public lingo. The NVA, and the ARVN. The USMC, and the VC. The M-16, and the AK-47. The B-52 became so famous, it’s now also known as an alcoholic shot, even at bars within Vietnam today.

Then there were the people on opposing sides that made history: Ho Chi Minh versus Lyndon B. Johnson. General Giap versus General Westmoreland. The Khmer Rouge versus everybody. 

A great deal of US made war materials remains in Vietnam today.

The wars of that region dominated western newswires for years. Communist movements across the region defied the will of four US presidents, and withstood the wrath of the world’s most powerful military.

Casualties of the war were high. More than 58,000 American servicemen died in Southeast Asia during those violent years, but that’s only the beginning of the grim numbers. In Laos, casualties from all sides left more than 150,000 dead, and that’s the lowest number for the region. In Vietnam, a total of more than 2,000,000 were killed. In Cambodia, with the wars and the communist genocide that followed, more than 2,400,000 people lost their lives. As always, civilians caught in the middle suffered the most.

Then finally, after decades of fighting, and so much bloodshed, the guns went silent.

Or did they? When American troops left the region, the TV news cameras left with them. Some wars there continued out of the global spotlight for decades. There are a couple of remote places in the region that still see conflict today, while hidden leftovers from the wars continue to kill and maim unsuspecting civilians in all three countries.

Far from Southeast Asia, the legacy of the Vietnam war continues to affect the current American political scene. Three recent American presidential elections have featured politicians who were Vietnam War veterans: Al Gore, John Kerry and John McCain. All three of those candidates lost their elections.

Soviet built tank used by the North Vietnamese Army during the war, sits today on the grounds of the former Presidential Palace

American war veterans who fought there decades ago, would hardly recognize these countries now. The coming of the 21st century has brought enormous change to this region. But there continues to be a great lack of first hand knowledge in the western world, of what life is like there in Southeast Asia, now and today.

As I made my way around Southeast Asia, I traveled under the radar. If I had applied for an official journalist’s visa for Vietnam and Laos, I would have been restricted as to where and when I could go, and who I could interview. I also would have had to wade my way through a great deal of additional propaganda and bureaucracy. Since I went to these countries on my own, and wrote about what I honestly saw and heard, I fully expect to be banned from future entry to some of these countries. Regrettably, they may never give me another visa. If I had gone the official route, I could have interviewed higher profile politicians, but their stories have already been told. I preferred to talk to the regular people I encountered on my own, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that most people I met were far from ‘regular’. Their stories were new, inspiring and often amazing. These former soldiers and survivors had great to stories to tell, and they helped inspire this blog.

As I traveled around these former war zones, I used translators, or guides, or used guides as translators. Few of the people whose stories I tell here knew I was writing a blog. If they knew, many would never have spoken with me at all. Much of the local populace fear speaking to foreign journalists, and with good reason. Several Vietnamese bloggers recently received long prison sentences The press in Vietnam and Laos are government controlled. Although Cambodia is supposed to have a free press, the government often represses local journalists and citizens for speaking out. Some of the names have been changed. 

Stained glass window in Vietnam museum depicts the war years

As I was departing for Southeast Asia, I wondered, whatever happened to those war torn countries? What legacy has America left behind? What are the people like that live there? Will I encounter problems and prejudice because I’m American?

In writing this blog, I went to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia to find out. The answers to all those questions were surprising, illuminating, and fascinating.

This is your invitation, to join me on that journey of historical discovery.

Your visa is approved, and your seat on the jet is waiting.

It’s the final boarding call.

It’s time to go to Vietnam.