Vietnam was one of the places we sought out for the chance to experience true local culture and to get away from the masses. It was only in the late 1990’s (during the Clinton administration) that the United States formally normalized relations with Vietnam. Up until that time Western influence, tourism, capitalism and modernization was a pretty distant element for much of the country. Given such a short time-frame for development, I had expected the country to be a little rough around the edges, perhaps a bit more of an untapped market for traveling. I had looked forward to experiencing first-hand what a country ruled for 20 years under communist philosophy, would look like in person.

It looks a lot like every other major city, except with more neon signs. I’m not sure what type of socialism they’re practicing these days, but if I had to guess it’s called “capitalism.”

Vietnam was supposed to be a natural and authentic SE Asian country, where traditions took precedence over anything else. What we found was an artificial landscape of shops and motorbikes; honking horns, street vendors and mass consumerism. The communist rule might well have never existed, as the Vietnamese have clearly converted their entire society to capitalism. So much so that nearly every street is filled solely with shops. Anywhere there are tourist attractions, there are vendors. Not that this is any different from Cambodia or Thailand, but we just didn’t expect it in Vietnam. Instead of one postcard vendor there are a hundred … all selling the exact same thing. Shop prices vary between 100% and 500% of what they should be, depending on how much the vendor thinks you can afford. The American Dollar is more widely accepted than the Vietnamese Dong. There are no price tags in most of the stores, and when you ask you most certainly are quoted a price in US Dollars. This alone is not reason to dislike Vietnam, in fact, this is precisely the same thing we saw in Cambodia (note: I did not like Cambodia). It’s the apparent greed that accompanies the shopkeepers and transportation sector that dug at me the most.

There’s a popular phrase in SE Asia right now, with slight variations in each country. In Vietnam, they’ve adopted “Same Same, but Different” as the national slogan (or maybe it’s a mission statement?). If they used their own currency, it would probably read same same, but different somewhere in the same likes as the US uses “In God We Trust.” This is a response to everything. Everywhere, “same same, but different.” In reality, everything is same same, but different. In every new city we traveled same shops, same honking horns, and same tourist-gouging … only with their own little twist.

Vietnam’s big cities (and the small ones) were noisy, polluted, and although we didn’t experience it first-hand, filled with crime. The streets are literally overflowing with 100cc Honda Motorbikes. By that I mean, tire-to-tire, with no room to spare for the casual person trying to cross the street; each driver trying to go 1km faster than the person in front of them. Instead of traffic rules, they have horns. Instead of traffic lights and two-way lanes, they have horns. Instead of the right-of-way or pedestrian cross-walks, they have horns. The drivers are not afraid to use them either. Walking down the sidewalk, one’s ears are assaulted by the litany of horn honking.

Someday I might look back on the experience and view it more as a symphony of noises that represented Vietnam. But for now, I’m just trying to re-gain my hearing.

The situation is so bad that it seems as though every Vietnamese person honks out of sheer habit, as opposed to necessity. I saw (and heard) motorcycle drivers at two o’clock in the morning honking their way down the streets, even though it was obvious that nobody else was there. It could only be perceived as a terrible case of arrogance by each driver, that somehow each one of them is entitled to be in front of the other. Lines, lanes, or pure politeness simply do not exist on the roads of Vietnam. The streets are chaos -- unsafe at any speed. Imagine the busiest sidewalks of New York City, and then imagine each person on a motorcycle; this is Vietnam.

I have a theory that driving rules are the base of every great civilization. Where there are rules in the streets, there is order to daily life. In America (or said in a more sarcastic tone, “In my country…”), we have very strict rules for motor vehicles - which is good, considering that everyone on the road these days drives a 2-ton SUV. Children learn the rules of the road at a young age and those rules are translated to nearly every other aspect of life. Take a look at the shopping malls, grocery stores or sidewalks; everyone walks on the same side of the street as they drive. Without any directions to go by, people naturally gravitate to the rules of the road whenever they move from point A to point B.

Lines form at cash registers, much like at traffic lights. People pass each other only when absolutely necessary, and do so only when there is appropriate space to do so. Although nobody walks in Vietnam, if they did I am sure they would all carry a horn. Instead of saying “excuse me” to get by someone else, a blaring foghorn would be utilized to let someone know you were about to push them to the side. I can’t count the number of times people cut in front of us in airports, immigration/customs, shops, and restaurants. Never did we hear an “Excuse me” or a “May I go first, please?” Instead, there was just a lot of pushing and rolling of the eyes. (This was very reminiscent of our experiences in Malaysia, particularly with Muslim women.) Eventually, we simply gave up walking for the most part, and opted for cyclos instead. Sometimes it’s better to be outright ripped-off by a cyclo driver than risk your life to cross the street. The sidewalks seemed better suited for motorcycle parking and extensions of store inventory than for pedestrians. At least, that’s what they were going to be used for anyway.

As we moved north from Saigon we experienced the same thing (same same) everywhere we went: motorcycles, two-tiered pricing, arrogance, and an overall contempt for Westerners. [I blame the French, really, but that’s another website altogether.] The only difference was that the weather got colder as we moved north. The tourist attractions were pretty limited, as well. There are few places of historical significance in Vietnam, other than war-related museums and monuments. After seeing Thai and Khmer temples, those in Vietnam simply don’t measure up. Even the nicest beach in Vietnam, Nha Trang, was remarkably similar to the New Jersey shore, Atlantic City, paved-over with plenty of bars.

My Hollywood preconception of Vietnam had thick jungles, sandy beaches, snakes, leaches, military uniforms, tanks, cover-fire, and ladies with conical hats riding bikes. At least they have the hat thing down. The rest of it? I’m not sure where it went. Platoon was filmed in the Philippines and the tropical jungle looked more like a series of mountains that had been strip-mined, and then covered with various farming operations.

The one thing I did take away from our trip is that now I know why America lost the Vietnam Conflict/War. If you take a group of soldiers and make them live underground for months at a time, they’re likely to become crazy bastards and kill everything in sight when they come to the surface (see Chu Chi Tunnels story). Although, from the war museums it’s hard to tell that anyone other than the Vietnamese people were killed during the war (they call it the American War, by the way). It’s a good thing that bygones are bygones, and the Dollar is such a popular thing in Vietnam these days.

Leaving Vietnam behind was a tough choice to make. We kept looking for the silver-lining in the clouds. We wanted so much to fall in love with this tragic country. While sitting at a beautiful lake-side park in Hanoi, we were discussing where we should move onto next. In our moment of thought … beep, beep, beep … “you buy postcard” … “come look in my shop” decided Vietnam’s fate for itself.

Koh Samui, Thailand, here we come.