Five days in Saigon and I'm loaded up like a mule. Not the type of mule that tries to smuggle drugs out of South-East Asia concealed uncomfortably in bodily orifices. Rather the type that has to bear a burden of textiles, handicrafts, bags of coffee, and other items accumulated in the shopping frenzy that is Ho Chi Minh City's District 1.

Most of today was spent spending. I managed to check off a large portion of my Christmas list as well as pick up more than a few personal indulgences. As in many places around the world, the Christmas shopping season is kicking off here in Vietnam's largest city. Probably not quite to the extent of North America, but the usual festive elements can be seen and heard here in Saigon. It's a new feeling for me to be walking down the street, seeing Christmas trees in store fronts, listening to Christmas carols pumping from speakers, and at the same time be drenched from head to toe in my own sweat. Not that I'm used to a white, blustery Christmas back home, but this time of the year here in the tropics is really scorching. The weather seemed to play in the advantage of the local entrepeneurs whose air-conditioned shops provided respite from the baking sidewalks, as well as a place to part with your money.

I don't mean to give the impression my whole time here has been devoted to consuming. On Wednesday I took a day tour to the Caodai Temple and Cu Chi tunnels about 3 hours outside of the city. Caodaism is a Vietnamese religion with about 2 million adherents. They worship Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, and a number of other gods and deities. Aswell, Chinese revolutionary Sun Yet-Sen and French author Victor Hugo are among their saints. I guess they like to have all their bases covered. Our guide (Slim Jim) gave an adequate overview of this strange theology but I'd imagine you would need to read a book to understand it fully. The temple, which is about fifty years old, is a surreal sight. It seems to incorporate architectural styles from each of the different religions present in the Caodaist belief system . The prevailing image is a glaring eye on a pyramid which was apparently inspired by the US one dollar bill. I've heard of worshipping money, but come on.

We arrived about half an hour before the daily ceremony at 12:00pm (they worship every six hours at 12:00am, 6:00am, 12:00pm, and 6:00pm). There seemed to be almost as many tourists taking off their shoes and filing into the temple as there were Caodaists. Dressed in cheap beer company T-shirts and baggy shorts, the foreigners watched and photographed a congregation dressed in red, yellow, blue, and white robes. The interior of the temple was cavernous. The tourists lined the rails of an upper gallery and the Caodaists occupied the vast floor below. As the choral and string music began, they filed in, took their places (assigned by seniority) on the floor, and began to pray. While the Caodaists prayed to Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed and the rest of their assorted pantheon, the assembled tourists gave thanks to Nikon, Canon, Sony, Kodak, and Fuji, for giving them the tools to record this captivating event and for a brief moment feel like some glamorous National Geographic photographer. I was just waiting for a lens cap to fall to the floor below and send the whole place into the worlds most unbearable awkward silence. It didn't happen.


I left the temple wondering why these Caodaists would allow hordes of foreign tourists to enter their temple everyday to gawk at, and photograph, them. I couldn't see them getting much of a cut of the $4 tour cost. Probably, their Public Relations people told them it would be a good idea to have an open policy towards the public or word might spread that they're a cult. Given some of their rituals and beliefs, such a policy might easily backfire.

The second half of the tour was spent visiting the infamous Cu Chi tunnels. Viet-cong guerrillas in the Cu Chi area north of Saigon used an elaborate underground tunnel network to conceal themselves and aid their combat against the Americans and the South Vietnamese Army. Once the Americans discovered the location, they deployed half a million tonnes of bombs and left the area thoroughly pulverized. What remains is now a popular tourist attraction.

After viewing a grainy propaganda video, we walked through the nearby forrest and saw tunnel entrances, bomb craters, and booby traps. Most of the traps involved sharp spikes being driven into various parts of the victim's body. Infront of a mural depicting American soldiers in various states of impalement, our guide used a bamboo pole to demonstrate how the traps worked. The 'rolling leg slicer' (as he called it) looked particularly nasty. Although most of the original tunnels have been collapsed by the impact of bombs, some have been reconstructed at about twice their original size to allow visitors a chance to experience life underground. We were given a chance to go through a 100 meter length of tunnel with exits for the claustrophobes (like myself) at 30 and 70 meters in.

Above ground, waiting to enter, I imagined I would be making use of the first exit. As it turned out, I didn't need to. Crouched over with my knees up near my shoulders, I made it about three steps down the tunnel before turning around and heading back out. I'm a man who can accept his limitations and this was definitely one of them. Not to sound defensive, but I think I would have been ok if we didn't have to go through the tunnel in a closely packed line. The thought of someone ahead spraining their ankle and leaving all those behind stuck (if only temporarily) in such a tight and sweltering space was enough to turn me off. "Not your cup of tea?" some one asked as I turned around. Got that right. My cup of tea was waiting for me at the reconstructed dining bunker along with a plate of tapioca.

The last stop on our tour could be heard as we approached. It was a firing range. It's a little disturbing to learn about all the destruction this area has witnessed and then be given the chance to destroy a little more. For the price of one dollar per bullet, visitors are given the chance to fire any of the weapons on the rack. The most popular were the assault rifles. It was bizarre hearing the attendants pitching their product, "M-16. Who's up for the M-16? You there. Wanna fire an Ak-47? Come on!" I passed, but others in our group jumped at the opportunity. One poor guy chose the machine gun and in less than half a second had literally 'blown' $5. Covering my ears from the deafening blasts, I discussed backpacker economics with another guy on the tour. In Saigon, draught beer can be found for as low as $1 dollar for 4 liters. "Shit, that guy just lost 20 liters of beer!" Such are the workings of the budget traveler's mind. He was from the States anyway, so the idea of firing a gun wasn't a real novelty.

The Avtomat Kalashnikova 1947 automatic rifle, known throughout the world as the AK-47:



On Thursday, I decided to arrange my own transportation to see the city rather than taking another package tour. I found a moto driver, negotiated the price, and set off. We first went to Chinatown and visited three Pagodas. Joss sticks (incense burned as part of prayer) wafted fragrant smoke through the open courtyards as locals came to bow and pray. Hanging from the ceiling above were coils of burning incense with names attached. For 6000 dong I bought my own, attached my name, and had it hung up where I was told it would burn for ten days. Who's to say they won't just snuff out the end, tear off my name, and sell it to the next curious traveler that shows up. Guess you just have to trust these Buddhists.

Next, I was taken to the War Remnants Museum. Its former name was the Museum of American Atrocities, changed, no doubt, to accommodate the boom in foreign tourism. Some of the displays certainly were atrocious. It's hard to describe the images of carnage and deformity wrought by Agent Orange and artillery shells, and I don't intend to. One exhibit was dedicated to photo journalists who worked on the front lines of the war. Many lost their lives shooting, not with a gun, but a camera. Even though the moments depicted in the pictures are more than 30 years in the past, there is something about the look of fear or despair in a person's eyes, the power of a grenade blast, the menace of an approaching tank, that feels very 'immediate'. You come to understand why many people equate the word Vietnam with a war and not a country. The museum isn't all negativity. The final section covers some of the American veteran's movement and shows the solidarity other nations showed towards Vietnam in times of war and peace.

The last stop on the improvised city tour was the Reunification Palace. Something equivalent to the White House, this huge structure was once home to the South Vietnamese president. That was, until North Vietnamese tanks entered Saigon rolling for its very location. The Palace doesn't look to have changed much since it was evacuated. The decor is like a spread out of a 1960's Modern Living magazine. Kind of groovy, kind of chic, but definitely dated. I navigated through groups of French tourists and Vietnamese school kids trying not to get stuck in one of the many chambers with them while their guides delivered long winded histories. It took some co-ordination, but I managed to make it through at my own pace and get back out to meet my moto driver at our agreed rendezvous point.

I was driven back to my hotel and then came the thing which I had half expected, but hoped would not occur: the catch. We had agreed in the morning on a rate of 15,000 dong for an hour. Quite specifically I asked ''one and five right? fifTEEN not fifTY, right?'' He assured me then and we set off. Now, however, he was informing me that I must have had a hearing problem because he had clearly said 50,000 dong for one hour. For those not familiar with the exchange rate, this is the difference between $5 for the afternoon tour, and $30. Considering my hotel room only costs me $3 a night, that is quite a significant discrepancy. I think the strategy is to throw such an outrageous figure at you, that you feel relieved to even get away with paying double what you agreed. As such, he acted as if he was doing me a favor by coming down to $25. I gave him the 75,000 as agreed (omitting any gratuity I had previously considered) and walked off. He didn't follow me. I took this as a sign that he had accepted his plot had failed. The scams and double dealing seem to have become a theme of my last few entries and I really don't mean to dwell on it. Although Vietnam is a beautiful country full of amazing things to see and interesting people to meet, it just feels impossible to trust anything you are told. To avoid becoming a cynic, I try to keep an open mind. It seems whenever I do though, the result is always the same: I end up haggling or arguing or just being generally harassed. Granted, when I have made the effort to venture off the well beaten tourist track, I've been rewarded with some genuinely warm and welcoming encounters. I guess you just have to take it all with a grain of salt. At any rate I won't be sticking around long. Tomorrow I'm heading up the Mekong River 'Apocalypse Now' style into Cambodia. I'm not, however, intent on assassinating a power-hungry, renegade Colonel. I just want to find a cheap place to rest my head.

A popular 'hackey sack' style game being played in Saigon: