CAUTION: skip this entry if you supported the war with Vietnam.Ann and Andrea signed up to go see the Cu Chi tunnels with me this morning, so we all got up early, ate breakfast at the hotel, and were ready to meet our tour group at 7:30. The man rushed us outside, practically running, to an empty air-conditioned bus, where we quickly got comfortable as we rode through the streets of Saigon. We stopped shortly after near a travel agency, to pick others up. We ended up parking there for nearly an hour! It was somewhat annoying having been rushed from our hotel and then made to sit patiently while everyone else took their sweet time. Andrew noticed an STA Travel just a few shops down! I got out and took a few pictures, and got a business card from the travel advisor working inside. I knew that STA was all over the world, but it was definately cool to see it in a foreign country first-hand.The bus was completely full by the time everyone finally got on. The ride took around two hours, but we stopped on the way in a small town that had a lacquer factory run by people handicapped by Agent Orange. It was very sad to see...most people affected by agent orange had the lower half of their bodies completely deformed. The dozens of people working here had tiny, short, skinny legs or legs that bent at unnatural angles. Some couldn't walk; others needed crutches to get around. The one thing all these people had in common was that their hands still worked perfectly, so they were able to make a living by creating works of art to sell to tourists. The artwork was beautiful..they made things like tiles, wall hangings, vases, different types of wood carvings, mirrors, and other handicrafts inlaid with mother of pearl and other materials. My favorite was made with tiny pieces of eggshell. The end result of the eggshell pieces looked someone like sand...very textured, with many colors (the eggs were burned as to make different shades of brown) plasterd artistically on a black background.I had seen photos of what agent orange did to people during the war at the War Remnants Museum, but it was completely different first hand. These people were all pretty young; agent orange had affected their fathers who fought in the war, some as Viet Cong, and the deformities were passed to their children. The affects will go past this generation, if these people have children, and will continue for an unknown amount of time. Seeing them made me feel awful. But it was also wonderful to see that they had found something positive to do with their lives.Our tour guide on the bus and at the tunnels spoke perfect English, but described everything in a very negative way towards Americans. I'm not vert patriotic and never have been, and have disagreed with much of the decisions our country has made throughout history, but the fact remains that I could have had family members die in that war. The tour guide didn't sugar coat a single thing about how many American soldiers were "exterminated" by the Viet Cong, and called us "the enemy" the whole time. He spoke of a few specific VC fighters at Cu Chi who, he claimed, killed dozens of people on their own. One person was said to have killed 118 all by himself. It wasn't easy to hear that these fighters were awarded titles and prizes as "War hero American killer" and other equally offensive titles. He described how Cu Chi had been a peaceful city but that the Americans wanted to destroy it, as if there was no motive behind it and we had just wanted to eradicate an entire village. He then spoke darkly of how women and children were targeted and killed, but in the same breath would boast of women and children fighters who purposely attacked American forces. It seemed somewhat contradictory...if you don't want your women and children killed, then don't allow then to fight your war.Probably the most disturbing part of the tour was an entire exhibit filled with torture mechanisms. I don't remember reading any of this from school, but the Viet Cong set out tons of traps that aimed to main a soldier or kill him painfully. I have photos of each and will describe each one as the caption. The basic idea behind most of these traps was when a soldier stepped on one or put pressure on it, either their foot would sink down into sharpened metal spikes and become trapped, or their whole body would fall through onto sharpened bamboo sticks or metal sticks arranged in different ways. The background of the exhibit was painted showing different white American men falling into these traps. Very disturbing.When I ignored the tour guide's words about Americans specifically and concentrated on learning how the VC survived it became very interesting. The tunnels below the ground have three layers, the first at three meters below, the second at six, and the last at eight to ten meters below ground. The tunnels were tiny and got smaller the lower one got. The entrances to the tunnels were very small and disguised under lots of foliage. Because so many westerners that come to the tunnels are somewhat large, the government decided to open one entrance to the tunnels so they could fit. Luckily I fit into the small one, and was the second volunteer to get into the entrace hole. We had the option later of actually crawling through each level of the tunnels, and not being very claustrophobic I decided to try it. I had to bend all the way horizontally at the waist to even fit, and these were the large tunnels! Withing the first three feet, completely enclose in the tunnel, some people way in front of us decided it would be a good time to pose for a photo and held the line up for over a minute. I panicked, not being able to move at all in any direction. If the line had been moving I think I'd have been ok, but as it was I could tell I would hate the experience, so I turned around, pushed past everyone, and went back overground and waited while everyone else went through. To add injury to insult, a Chinese man behind me, who had NOT been stuck in the tunnel but just waited in line to get into the tunnel, took my picture on the way out. I can just read the photo caption now: "Stupid American can't handle largest Cu Chi tunnels!"My favorite part was actually somewhat disrespectful of the memory of the place, both for the VC and the American side, but was offered on site so of course I tried. A shooting range had been set up where tourists could choose to fire an M16, AK47, or a variety of other huge guns (including a machine gun!) for a small price. My dad used to take me to shooting ranges when I was younger so I'd had some experience before, but a .22 doesn't exactly shoot like the M16 did. The noise was incredible...I jumped every time I heard a shot being fired. People all around me were shooting too, and I never got used to hearing the incredible noise these guns gave off. I shot two bullets from the M16, then was happily done. I hadn't realized how much power was behind the weapon, and shuttered to think what it would do to what or whomever it made contact with.The gift shops on site at the tunnels had one thing I hadn't seen yet...rice wine. I had heard of rice wine many times but didn't realize what was actually in it. BEWARE...it's nowhere near as innocent as the name sounds! Rice wine is really like a hard liquor, yellowish in color that tastes somewhat like whiskey (so I'm ntold, there was NO WAY I wanted to see first hand). All very normal, until you look at the bottle...the bottle, depending on size, is filled with SNAKES. There was one main snake that looked like a cobra in each bottle, and a variety of smaller snakes that looked like long beans at the bottom. Some of the bottles had scorpions in them as well. The main large snake always had either a smaller snake or the scorpion in its mouth. I took lots of pictures as to ruin as many people's appetites as possible. Enjoy!We took the bus straight home this time, not stopping on the way. Starving, Andrea, Ann, and I decided to get a late lunch before Andrea and I had our group meeting at 4. I found out that our hotel served pizza (!) and, telling myself it would not taste like normal American pizza and not to get my hopes up, ordered a small vegetable pizza. It came out looking...delicious! And it tasted delicious as well! I did feel guilty getting American food on only the second day away, but justified it by thinking I wouldn't have a chance to get American food for at least another week.We met the people in our group soon after. Our tour leader is named Richard and he is from Australia. In fact, almost all the people in our group are Aussies, except for two from the UK. I am the only American and sound terribly out of place when I talk. Pear-hops I shall ac-qwuire an axe-cent myself whilst in the come-pany of these ah-thers.We had a cyclo tour through the city, and actually didn't repeat any stops from the one I'd had the day before. We went into the richer part of the town, which was very nice with large buildings, and saw the most expensive hotel in all of Vietnam: the Hyatt, which STARTED at $1,500 PER NIGHT. WOW. We also saw the post office, which sounds boring but was actually gorgeous. Built by the french with all french materials, it was enormous and airy and painted with pastel colors. Notre Dam cathedral was across the street, which was also beautiful but looked somewhat old. Because of the french influence on the country, six million people are still Christians. The cathedral didn't really fit in with the rest of the city; it was taller and almost seemed ostentatious in comparison to the simple buildings around it. I'm sure the french planned it that way.I mentioned before how there are no street laws (that I understand at least) and how the drivers basically go when they please, just shifting around other vehicles without accidents. I still had not seen an accident until the cyclo ride. And guess who that incident involved? Yes, me. My cyclo was going along, minding its own business, when out of nowhere came a bike with two people on it. My driver yelled but it was inevitable...we were going to hit. It was seriously like slow motion in the movies, when everything slows way down and the voices get lower and slower. At the very last second, all four of us looking in horror, the front edge of my cyclo and the side of the bike bumped. I think the word "bump" might be overpowering; "tapped" might be more appropriate. We barely touched. The moment the noise from the "tapping" occurred, all hell broke loose. The two men drivers began yelling at each other very loudly while the woman on the back of the bike looked on, shocked. They yelled, gesturing wildly, for a good two or three minutes, all the while ignoring me and the woman. "Don't worry," I said sarcastically, turning to my driver. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He ignored me and continued to argue. Finally we peddled off, not a word said to me about the incident.After the cyclo tour we stopped at a street market for dinner. Andrea and I were not hungry after our late lunch and instead decided to shop. I ended up purchasing a Burberry purse (HA like it's real!) for $10, a t-shirt for $6, and an Adidas shirt for $4. Andrea purchased some nice belts and other things for her kids at home. I'd wanted to upload more pictures onto traveljournals last night; as of now I've taken over 200 of them, but the computers are so slow it takes about two minutes per picture to upload. I decided to actually sleep, for the first time since the day before leaving, the whole night and instead went to bed. I'll try and upload as many as I can next time I have internet access.Tomorrow we leave Saigon and head for the Mekong Delta. I'm sad the leave the city. I loved the hustle and bussle and the speed at which everything moved. I loved the people as a whole, even though two specific individuals rubbed the wrong way. This would definately be a city I'd love to return to.
