I've published nothing new in some time, so I've decided to post thoughts excerpted from writing on my 2005 trip to Vietnam:

The troubles of home seem utterly distant. I would like to stay longer. The trip has been a feast for the senses and psyche since the moment I departed the San Francisco airport. The flight from SFO to Hong Kong was the longest I’ve done - 14 hours on the same plane! Longer than the LA-Sydney flight. Any flight that shows 4 - count 'em - 4 movies is a long flight. I can't sleep on planes, so I was exhausted by the time I finally arrived in Ho Chi Minh City. Apparently, they were auditioning a new reality show in Hong Kong called "World's worst Asian Baby" - 3 of the prospective contestants sat behind me and screamed their way across the entirety of the Pacific ocean. I couldn't sleep on arrival, though, because of the anticipation.

There are no road rules in Saigon, only vague culturally-established guidelines. I never imagined there were so many motorbikes and mopeds on earth. The urban flow of motorbikes through the street is like a high speed, exhaust soaked lava lamp. Crossing the street is a game of roving eye contact, trust in the keen sense of the Vietnamese person at the stick, and faith in what is essentially a chaos theory sub-proof rendered live and in real time. Getting across an intersection is very much like the old video game "Frogger" of which, fortunately, I was an aficionado. Two steps forward, one step back - look out for the minibus!

I think the best approach is to just close one's eyes and step into the boulevard, since the motorbike speed demons seem to flow around you like the foreign blood clot that you are.
I've seen mopeds with whole families of 6 riding on them, motorbikes towing carts with water buffalo in them, motorbikes with 10 foot high stacks of plywood strapped to the back of the seat.

I’ve done a tour of the cu chi tunnel networks, where the viet cong guerillas held off the Americans for the whole of the war. This is a communist country, so the video we watched beforehand in the museum was of course tinged with triumphant propaganda, narrating on the best "American Killer Heroes" of the cu chi province. The Americans in the audience sort of fussed in their seats uncomfortably with repeated mention of celebrated "American killer heroes." Y’know…. those heroes who killed their quota of Americans.













It was nevertheless educational to see the history of the Vietnam war from the viewpoint of the winners. The War Remembrance Museum in central Saigon is likewise eye-opening. 2 million dead Vietnamese, American produced pesticides creating all sorts of birth defects, land mines permanently dismembering so many citizens here. My sense for pacifism is forever renewed.

I have violated every rule of safe travel. I have had Vietnamese coffee with ice every day (they roast thebeans in butter - delicious!). I have eaten fruits with skins, and eaten from street vendors everywhere. It is too tempting, but my stomach has not yet rebelled. I had a whole frog cooked in spicy curry sauce the first day - it was tough getting the meat off the calf muscle while peering at the still-attached toes. Most of the "restaurants" I've eaten at have been little more than 2 footstools supporting a wood plank and a steaming pot on the sidewalk.

The beach at Nha Trang was beautiful, but I caught a cold there. Too much travel, not enough sleep. Fortunately, I was pounding the zinc and EmergenC concoctions, and the cold only lasted 24 hours. Now, I'm simply hungover (30 cents for 450 ml of "Saigon" beer - this truly a paradise) and happy to be well again. I went to a pharmacy where a woman offered me packets of either Cipro (the anthrax cure) or tetracycline - no instructions, no prescription – for 35 cents. I chose tetracycline. Mmmm… tasty third world antibiotics.