Arriving in Saigon
Yes, yes, ya'll - we have returned to the Motherland.
Alex and I departed for an epic (~24 hours) plane ride from Philadelphia to Saigon. We stopped in EWR and Hong Kong before arriving on Saturday night at 10PM local time. (I know, I know: we should have just flown out of EWR). Baggage claim was full of people loading onto carts over-sized cardboard boxes full of goodies from, I imagined, America and other more prosperous countries. We waited patiently at the conveyor belt, watching black suitcase after black suitcase pass us by.
During the trip, I had many moments of understanding, where some aspect of my upbringing was made clearer by observing it in the Vietnamese society. In those moments, I would remember some saying my parents always repeated when I was a child, a way they would insist on doing certain things, or some seemingly trivial thing that defined well-behaved, devoted children.
While waiting at the baggage claim, I had the first of these moments, although a very minor one: my parents always insisted that we not wear flip-flop sandals outside the house, that we tuck our shirts into our pants, and that my shorts not be too short. My mom thought it was important for us to wear high heels, carry a proper pocket book, and dress properly.
These standards, of course, were to the absolute exclusion of our middle school trends of baggy jeans and untucked oversized shirts for Joe, ripped jeans and band t-shirts for me. Prior to the age of 18, I wouldn't be caught dead with a pocket book or high heels, developing instead a love for Adidas slide sandals on tennis tournament weekends and toting satchels my mom would swear made me look like an impoverished beggar.
Although Vietnam is a poor country and people do dress very sloppily in some areas like the poor market stalls, many of the Vietnamese people at the airport were dressed surprisingly nicely. Unlike the typical travelers in sweatpants and flip flops, people wore slacks with collared shirts tucked in, belts, and nice shoes; all the women in traditional tunics effortlessly dragged their children and luggage around in high heeled sandals. All this in spite of the ridiculous humidity and heat. Although their clothing wasn't formal or particularly stylish, Alex and I definitely looked sloppy and disheveled by comparison in our shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops.
When we finally retrieved our bags, we definitely stood out even more as tourists, with my neon orange hiking bag and Alex's huge bright green mountaineering bag. Joe's friend Benny was supposed to pick us up, but couldn't make it. An airport employee tried to send us in a cab for $15. He pointed eagerly to his badge and assured me that he worked for the airport, so his rate was fair and standard. Alex rolled his eyes with skepticism. His co-worker came up to us - also wearing an airport employee badge - and offered us a cab for $12. They should have coordinated their stories!
We called our own cab for $10. Alex said this was still a ripoff but it was 11pm, we'd been on the plane for a day, and we were anxious to settle in. So, we paid the fare and arrived at Thien Xuan Hotel in Saigon about 20 minutes later. Grandma, Di 6, and Duong 6 were in the room next door. We dropped our bags and walked down the street (at 11:30pm) with Di 6 to some street food vendors. We sat for our first meal. Under florescent lights, sitting at tiny plastic kids-sized chairs on a filthy sidewalk across from Ben Thanh Market, we ordered two bowls of pork knuckle noodle soup (bun gio heo) and a bowl of congee for Di 6.
During our 5 minute meal perched on the baby chairs, a man with both legs amputated below the knee came around to beg and sell lottery tickets. Di 6 gave him money. I was expecting a lot of beggars on this trip, but we only encountered two and they both evoked extreme feelings of compassion for their difficult lives. One of the striking things about this trip was the appreciation I had for what a privileged life I lead.
Although it goes without saying, I have to add that the trip was not as enriching as possible because I was the only member of my immediate family to make this trip. There is no doubt that the presence of my Mom, Joe, and Chi Trinh's family would have brought much more depth to this tour, and they were missed. Also, it goes without saying that a visit with Dad's family just wasn't the same without him.
Alex and I departed for an epic (~24 hours) plane ride from Philadelphia to Saigon. We stopped in EWR and Hong Kong before arriving on Saturday night at 10PM local time. (I know, I know: we should have just flown out of EWR). Baggage claim was full of people loading onto carts over-sized cardboard boxes full of goodies from, I imagined, America and other more prosperous countries. We waited patiently at the conveyor belt, watching black suitcase after black suitcase pass us by.
During the trip, I had many moments of understanding, where some aspect of my upbringing was made clearer by observing it in the Vietnamese society. In those moments, I would remember some saying my parents always repeated when I was a child, a way they would insist on doing certain things, or some seemingly trivial thing that defined well-behaved, devoted children.
While waiting at the baggage claim, I had the first of these moments, although a very minor one: my parents always insisted that we not wear flip-flop sandals outside the house, that we tuck our shirts into our pants, and that my shorts not be too short. My mom thought it was important for us to wear high heels, carry a proper pocket book, and dress properly.
These standards, of course, were to the absolute exclusion of our middle school trends of baggy jeans and untucked oversized shirts for Joe, ripped jeans and band t-shirts for me. Prior to the age of 18, I wouldn't be caught dead with a pocket book or high heels, developing instead a love for Adidas slide sandals on tennis tournament weekends and toting satchels my mom would swear made me look like an impoverished beggar.
Although Vietnam is a poor country and people do dress very sloppily in some areas like the poor market stalls, many of the Vietnamese people at the airport were dressed surprisingly nicely. Unlike the typical travelers in sweatpants and flip flops, people wore slacks with collared shirts tucked in, belts, and nice shoes; all the women in traditional tunics effortlessly dragged their children and luggage around in high heeled sandals. All this in spite of the ridiculous humidity and heat. Although their clothing wasn't formal or particularly stylish, Alex and I definitely looked sloppy and disheveled by comparison in our shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops.
When we finally retrieved our bags, we definitely stood out even more as tourists, with my neon orange hiking bag and Alex's huge bright green mountaineering bag. Joe's friend Benny was supposed to pick us up, but couldn't make it. An airport employee tried to send us in a cab for $15. He pointed eagerly to his badge and assured me that he worked for the airport, so his rate was fair and standard. Alex rolled his eyes with skepticism. His co-worker came up to us - also wearing an airport employee badge - and offered us a cab for $12. They should have coordinated their stories!
We called our own cab for $10. Alex said this was still a ripoff but it was 11pm, we'd been on the plane for a day, and we were anxious to settle in. So, we paid the fare and arrived at Thien Xuan Hotel in Saigon about 20 minutes later. Grandma, Di 6, and Duong 6 were in the room next door. We dropped our bags and walked down the street (at 11:30pm) with Di 6 to some street food vendors. We sat for our first meal. Under florescent lights, sitting at tiny plastic kids-sized chairs on a filthy sidewalk across from Ben Thanh Market, we ordered two bowls of pork knuckle noodle soup (bun gio heo) and a bowl of congee for Di 6.
During our 5 minute meal perched on the baby chairs, a man with both legs amputated below the knee came around to beg and sell lottery tickets. Di 6 gave him money. I was expecting a lot of beggars on this trip, but we only encountered two and they both evoked extreme feelings of compassion for their difficult lives. One of the striking things about this trip was the appreciation I had for what a privileged life I lead.
Although it goes without saying, I have to add that the trip was not as enriching as possible because I was the only member of my immediate family to make this trip. There is no doubt that the presence of my Mom, Joe, and Chi Trinh's family would have brought much more depth to this tour, and they were missed. Also, it goes without saying that a visit with Dad's family just wasn't the same without him.
Comments