Sunday, April 19, 2009

Moto Saigon

My new host sister and a friend of hers, Nam, took my roommate Julia and I for a spin around downtown Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City) tonight before dinner. They must all have thought I was crazy. I held them up for at least five minutes while I tried to adjust the straps on my oversized glorified skullcap of a motorcycle helmet. My mother Luom tried to bring me a smaller helmet, but the straps on it too were loose, so I kept adjusting the first one until its straps were snug under my chin. The EMT in me is far too conscious of the dangers of two wheeled motor vehicles--a helmet with a loose strap may as well be no helmet at all. Besides which, this was to be my first "motorcycle" (they're really scooters) ride in Vietnam and my 20 year old sister only has two years driving experience. Luckily my apprehensions were all for naught. Thuy navigated the narrow alleys near her home like a pro, and when we got to the main streets, sometimes teeming with motos, she had perfect control. Now that I've been "in it" I am even more amazed that the mass of motos on the streets so effectively navigate, I couldn't possibly count the number of times my bike's handlebars and footpegs passed less than an inch from the neighboring motos.
Saigon is not Hanoi. As far as I can tell from the little I've seen the two are nearly polar opposites. Where Hanoi was filled with streetside open air stores vending all manner of things, Saigon is far more metropolitan. Shops are more frequently enclosed, and it would take at least two sets of hands to count the number of designer stores I have seen in the last 24 hours. In addition, Saigon encompasses a much bigger area and is the nation's focus point for increasing development and international trade. Tall buildings are common, and there is ample construction happening. The fellow on my IHP study abroad program lived in Saigon three years ago and as we drove into the city yesterday she was overwhelmed by the changes. She didn't even recognize her old neighborhood. The moto drive was thrilling, despite the inherent danger, I think that a motorcycle ride is the best way to get a sense of the city. We passed the opera house, museums, parks, and crossed the river. My nose was treated to jasmine , lotus, and less pleasant scents fading in and out and overwhelming each other as we drove down wide divided avenues and tight alleways. On the way home we squeezed by a mother and young toddler--she held the back of his shirt to stabilize him as he peed in the center of the alley.
Public urination is quite common and clearly legal. It's a strange day when I haven't seen at least three men making use of el banyo grande--though of course, its less common on the main streets in the center of the city. My "might as well be plywood" fold out bed is calling to me, and what will be an early breakfast (but late by Viet Namese standards) at seven a.m. is not many hours away. Tomorrow the class will got to Ben Thanh market and the war museum before jumping into afternoon lectures and case study preparations.

Funeral Music

We stepped outside into the beginnings of rain and a small crowd dressed in pure white--cymbals, drums, and stringed instruments had been playing all afternoon and into the evening. As we napped on the tile floor of our room on the fourth Tang (floor) this afternoon live music filled the air in strange intermittent spurts. I found it beautiful, though perhaps meant to be sad, it filled me with happiness as it was only the second time I have heard non-electrified live music in over three months. The first was a few days ago in Can Tho in the Mekong delta, when I took a break from reality and wandered to The Victoria Hotel for a U.S. priced sandwich and a dip in the pool. I stayed there all evening with a fellow student--slowly sipping overpriced Indian beer, reading Dostoevsky and fairly melting into my chair each time the resident pianist graced us with twenty minutes of classical. Today's music was for a funeral, the object of which greeted me in the form of a framed photograph wreathed in flowers when I stepped outside. She was 72, and lived a long life: in Vietnam the life expectancy is ~71. Tables were set up in the alleyway, incense was burning, the funeral began three days ago and will not be over until at least tomorrow.
Dear friends, family, and readers:

I am here by the turqoise Zanzibar sea beginning my first blog. It is in part an effort to record, reflect upon, and share my experiences as I travel through Tanzania and Vietnam, studying Public Health. I have to thank the State Department, as the fact that I am writing this blog is primarily due to a scholarship I received from them. Though I will try to focus specifically on public health, and my study abroad experience, I anticipate that I will stray from these, and also reflect upon my experiences in general. I would like to apologize in advance for the infrequency of my posts. Though I hope in Vietnam I will be able to post regularly, gaining reliable internet access in Tanzania has been challenging, thus my posts about Tanzania will be based on memory, or compare aspects of the two countries in retrospect.

Enjoy.