Guilt, Beauty and Change

Why must we Americans forever skulk around the globe waving our faux Canadian flag patches like so many tiny pleas for truce? The answer lies in our behavior throughout these countries.. it makes me furious to hear what monsters our government has supported, and even more angry to think of what they are doing now. I knew that our history here was riddled with deception and with death on all sides- but I guess standing on the bloodstained ground of our so many battles makes it much more real somehow. South East Asia itself is a lesson about paying attention to your government, about educating yourself about the truth.. however elusive.

Gregg spoke about the Cu Chi Tunnels, crawling through these tiny holes in the ground, seeing American tanks sinking slowly into the earth, and all over the gaping holes left from B52s.. One of the saddest moments for me at this site was when we watched the "documentary." They listed all of the fighters for Vietnam and the awards they got- the awards were "American soldier exterminator hero" and "American killer hero" and the numbers that each one killed were listed- "This hero killed 14 American invaders!" All I could think of were the families that heard that news about their 18 year old son that had just lost his life somewhere far away and strange, right here. All the kids that grew up in our generation, fatherless. Because our government sent them over here to do their dirty work. I guess I realized who the faceless enemy is- it is us. And those boys would have killed them first if given the chance. And many times did.

It just all seems so fresh here and makes me think of the war sites my children will wander through sadly in the Middle East someday.. Wondering why their parents couldn't stop it.

So, hello from Hanoi.

I have just ripped myself from my windowless nest to write everyone- I've had a cold for the past few days and been forced to stay in bed trying to get better so that I can join the whirlwind that is the greggoire. We have left the beautiful but baking town of Hoi An for the cooler north.

Hoi An had a the slightly haunted feeling of a town rich with ancient history that is just starting to be stampeded by hungry tourists. There is the sense of a village on a precipice, below a loss of soul, but above, no money to live.. I have had this feeling a lot in Vietnam. There is a struggle to retain a sense of identity, to work for/by themselves and at the same time become modern, join the rest of the world with money and little plastic privileges. I can understand the desire to sell trinkets to tourists- one painting of a farmer in a conical hat hoeing the land will probably make more than that farmer makes in a month- maybe more. But in the end we who are the tourists, and whose money is sought, find only the stores with the paintings of the farmers and the conical hats, but no actual farmers in the hats..

One day I left Grey to his tailor endeavours and went on my own through the walking tour of the village. It is actually a very cool way to see the town. I bought a ticket for a lump sum and with it got 5 different categories of visits- museum, old house, temple..etc. Then I chose one of each, whichever sounded the most interesting. The old village is a World Heritage Sight and they encourage you to do this tour as a way of supporting the village as a whole.

I bought my ticket and set out to decide what sights I wanted to see. I was determined to break free from The Lonely Planet- which is an amazing guide, but ensures that you will see nothing but slightly bedraggled and eager and somehow embarrassing versions of yourself for the entire tour. I opened the complicated map they had given me and dug in. Quickly I realized that the map was entirely in Vietnamese. I raced back to the ticket seller and they shrugged dismissively- no more English version. I felt almost better about the town- they weren't giving in to tourist needs!! But worse about my own prospects, it was me and the Lonely once again. It was still a really interesting way to see the town- especially the old house which was still being lived in by the family after 7 generations. In fact, I passed an elderly gentlemen sitting quietly at the kitchen table and looking slightly forlorn. Later I realized from the pictures around the house that it was his house!! He was just having some alone moments at his kitchen table while I wandered through. I think this best describes the birth of a tourist town. The museum pieces are still alive.

One of the most beautiful nights I have experienced yet was in Hoi An during their full moon party. The town is lit only by lanterns and they float candles in paper boats on the river. Gregg and I took a small wooden boat through the candles and wandered to the untouristy parts of town where people shouted hello and treated us as if we were strangers. It was comforting somehow. We are supposed to be strangers.

After making good friends with the hat maker (if anyone needs a hat in Hoi An, just mention Gregg's name and they will greet you with warmth and curiosity) we set out for the DMZ. We spent only one night in Hue so I didn't get to visit the tombs for which the town is famous- but we decided to save it for another day.. we were ready to get to Hanoi.

The bus ride from Hue to Hanoi was reminiscent of India- people were smoking and spitting and staring. We were the only backpackers on the bus and definitely had that old feeling of sticking out. I was reminded of why I hated bus rides in India. When the sneezer was joined by the cougher and the smoker and finally the spitter, I wanted to crawl off. Grey looked at me worriedly but I held on.. I do think that is why I am sick now though. You just can't spend 15 hours on a bus with people throwing their saliva everywhere and not get some kind of germ in your nose.. This reminds me of the face masks that are everywhere. I wonder if they are left overs from the SARS days- less in Hanoi, but in Saigon and all of the small towns a whole day can go by without seeing a single face- just eyes above a mask.. It is a bit disconcerting and makes you wonder if you should be wearing one. One man told me it was less for the pollution and germs than for keeping the skin white. But the two women across from us on the bus wore theirs all night- and I wish I had too..

We've been loving Hanoi. The city is full of huge lakes, millions of pretty neighborhoods to discover, Vietnamese sitting on tiny plastic chairs and supping on strange looking items (we are getting our nerve up!!), and of course, in the center of it all, Ho Chi Minh's embalmed body lying open to viewing... We had an amazing night out with a bunch of rowdy expats on a boat/club and discover cafes every day. One of my favorite spots was the Temple of Literature. I just wonder why it's the first one I've ever seen. Of course literature should have a temple!!

Speaking of.. a couple people have asked me to write a book list of what I've been reading while I travel. I have tried to compose a complete list, but I know there are a few missing. The choice of the books is very random since I have been mostly limited to whatever anyone else has traded these small bookstores. This limitation also makes me read things I wouldn't necessarily read, so in some ways I think this book by book travelling is more interesting than my local library. If anyone wants more information on any of these, let me know- I wasn't sure if I should write plot or review.

In India:

Such A Long Journey by Rohinton Mistry- this isn't the beginning of my love affair with RM, I read A Fine Balance before I left and this seemed like a perfect beginning to the trip.. I was shocked by the parts which I had found exotic in the US becoming mundane in India.
Family Matters by Rohinton Mistry- I wanted more of that feeling that someone understood where I had landed. Also found the book just after my Uncle Dev had a stroke and the grandfather's story made me feel very close to him.
Freakonomics by Steve D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner- Not usually my type of book, but Teddy passed it on to me and I found it pretty fascinating. I was also looking for solutions about why society can end up with these enormous problems. Not sure I found them, but at least it showed me a different way to ask questions.
Holy Cow! by Sarah MacDonald- Another book passed along to me. I couldn't read it though because it was almost too similar to my travels and I didn't want to pre-read my own adventures.
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse- seemed appropriate to our time in Rajasthan. Made me look differently at the skinny, hungry looking turbaned men that surrounded me. Found it a bit frustrating and spiritually saturated though.
My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk- a juicy one. A little too detailed on the miniaturist's art-although it's relevance to the loss of history and the demise of the appreciation for the artist was interesting.. and then there is the love story..
Human Croquet by Kate Atkinson- not as good as Behind the Scenes At the Museum.
Stupid White Men by Michael Moore- passed on to me, don't really like the way he writes but I enjoy his movies and learned a few things..
No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod- realized that I'd already read this but read it again anyway because I enjoyed it so much the first time.. Cold Canada in India felt very surreal, but the immigrant theme relevant.
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri- Appropriately, my final book in India. Felt the sadness of being divided between old and new, wondering how anyone could adjust to life after only knowing India. And how to live between those worlds.

Thailand

The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields- sneaking suspicion that I've already read this too. But so good, read it like new.. Felt very foreign to where we were, but the themes of motherhood and identity were valid even in Thailand.
Abookthatican'trememberbutwasn'tthatgreat.
In the Beauty of the Lilies by John Updike- I love these types of books that go through generations and tell the future in small teasing pieces..maybe liked the beginning better than the end, but loved the characters.. I always think of Updike stuff as too over-explained, but then I get sucked in and I've loved everything of his..
Waterland by Graham Swift- I loved Last Orders so I tried this one- very different but ended up really liking it even though it was hard to jump around so much until I got used to it.. I love the way he writes, even if sometimes he feels tangled up in his words.. (don't we all)

Cambodia

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler- The title seemed appropriate.. really enjoyed this one, although had a hard time forgiving one of the characters long enough to read about him sympathetically. One of those books that tries to present all personalities empathetically. And succeeds somewhat.
Fingersmith by Sarah Waters- a lovely surprise. Had a tacky cover, but looked interesting so I took a chance. It was completely absorbing and delicious. A girl who saw me reading it and said that if I enjoyed that I would enjoy this one: (a gift from her)

(finished in) Vietnam

The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles- Really enjoyed this one. Although the multiple choice endings was as frustrating as the author meant it to be.. not sure I want to realize that my books are being written by someones imagination..
Leaving the Land by Douglas Unger- very moving. not necessarily uplifting. like real life.
The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer- first half the pages were all stuck together, but when I got them open I enjoyed it- ended up liking the parts outside the bar better and sometimes he got a little drifty in his prose.. but in the end I really did like it.

Hope that was interesting to anyone.

love,

fz