VIETNAMITAS-DINAMITAS

Traffic Jam!!!

There was no direct bus from Hong Kong to Hanoi, Vietnam, contrary to what Emi has been telling me. Luckily, we cleared that out before getting into China and got ourselves double entry visas for that country.  From Hong Kong there are only 2 options as far as getting into Northern Vietnam – going through southern China or flying. As you might imagine, flying was totally unacceptable for our budget, so it was bus or bus via China. It was going to be our first over-night bus trip, and what a joy it was to experience it with a Chinese transport company. It was paradise compared to all the other “sleeper buses” we took in South East Asia. The bus was new, spotlessly clean, and had real double deck beds wide enough space to accommodate 2 people! It also turned out that the roads in Southern China were very nicely paved and without much turns and curves so it didn’t feel like we were on a bus at all, which presented a perfect opportunity for watching a movie on our little Acer.

A Mobil Fruit Stand.

A movie and a few hours of sleep in we were at the Vietnam border. The border crossing was like any other, but the immigration control and the actual passport stamping was something special… First of all, you have to make it to the little window to hand in your passport, either by waiting in line, or just pushing your way through, as if the rest in line did not exist. Once at your target, somehow you start doubting if it is a good idea to turn your passport in because what you see through the window is a mountain of passports of all colors being stamped and passed over in all directions. You are supposed to submit your passport and wait at the other window where it is supposed to appear with all the necessary stamps and visas. Passport control, as most of us know, also implies “face control” where they match your passport photo with your actual face. Well, not in Vietnam! What matters is a passport and the entry fees you have paid, and there you go! Magically, our passports were into the chaos and back out and in our hand in no more than 30 minutes. The magic here must have had some connection with Emi’s 3 month beard. Contrary to Russia, having a beard and lots of body hair in Vietnam automatically makes you a super star. The Vietnamese of all ages and genders were staring at Emi with approving looks and fascinated smiles on their faces. They must have expedited out passport quickly and into the right hands just out of respect for his abundant hairiness!

Vietnamise Style U-HAUL.

Heading down to South East Asia we, of course, knew that accommodation, among other things, was very cheap there. Nevertheless, we were determined to continue with our couchsurfing home stays. This time, it was Katya from Ukraine who opened her doors for us. Katya, like many other expats in Vietnam, was an English teacher. As we learned later on, life as an English teacher in Vietnam is pretty sweet, with nice salaries and a prestigious social status. So, it is no wander that herds and herds of travel enthusiast, adventures and all sorts of cold hating white folks flock to Vietnam to spread the lingua franca of the current times. Somehow, this communist country places quite an important role on getting its population to master English. There is a great demand for English teachers and they are treated very well in Vietnam.

Farangs at Dolche Vita, no Less.

Nevertheless, despite the abundance of English schools and farangs (or gringos, or white foreigners) the Vietnamese don’t really speak English. I should correct myself, they all do try to speak it, but what comes out of their mouths is impossible to understand, so there is lots and lots of work for anyone whishing to try themselves in the education field. Weeks after our first entrance into Vietnam we were explained the basics of the Vietnamese language, after which it made it much easier to understand why the poor Vietnamese cannot, for the life of them, get their English sounding like they are speaking English. In Vietnamese, half of the consonants, that are perfectly normal to us, simply do not exist, and the Vietnamese can’t distinguish the sound of those consonants. So, for example, v, f and p sound the same to them!

Coca-Cola Delivery Truck.

Listening to all sorts of crazy expat stories while sipping another one of the 25 cent “bia hoi” bears I couldn’t stop thinking about our DC family’s dear friend Leo, who lived in Vietnam for 4 years. The whole time that we were in Vietnam, I saw Leo in every fair-skinned farang drinking a beer, eating a bun cha, or zipping around on a $5 per day rental motorbike. One time, I asked Leo why he left Vietnam, and he said: “I was going crazy, I had to leave”. I can only imagine the kind of trouble my dear friend and the rest of the farangs got and get into in Vietnam with all the money and the freedom of the young years on their hands… Oh my! The crazy mix of everything in the streets only hinted of the chaos Hanoi lifestyle could be.

A Mobil Coffee Shop.

There were motorbikes everywhere and you never knew if the drivers actually knew how to drive them. As we found out, in order to rent a moto all you need is $5 to pay for it. No one is going to ask you for driver’s license, insurance of anything of the sort. I read somewhere that all international drivers license are actually illegal and are not accepted in Vietnam and Cambodia, but in reality, no one cares about any drivers license, and the police are usually afraid to deal with the farangs because they don’t speak English. Most of the locals also don’t have any kind of license and many even drive bikes without any license plates! But again – anything goes in Vietnam. Things like, transporting on a 2 person motorbike a cargo of 10 cages full of live chickens; a live pig; a dead pig; a stack of crates full of beer and coca-cola; a sheet of glass for a storefront; an entire kitchen and a kiosk to sell the goods at any stop; 4-5 people, some of them holding I.V. bags for the others (it is true!), and so on...

A Corner Restaurant.

Surprisingly enough, accidents happen a lot less frequently in Vietnam as one would expect. Once we have gotten a “steel horse” of our own, we realized that one of the reasons for that was that everyone drives very slowly there. It is perfect for when you are learning how to drive a bike, or when you are doing some sightseeing, but not when you are trying to get from point A to point B. However, the biggest challenge is probably not the speed, but what you might encounter on the road. While on a highway (or something of its equivalent) you might see people driving in the opposite direction in your lane; people doing a U turn in the middle of the road; water buffalos, cows and pigs crossing your way, or taking a little siesta; and of course, lots and lots of Vietnamitas-Dinamitas (as Emi likes to call the Vietnamese) all wearing air masks, and some sort of pajama looking protective jackets.

Taking a Little Siesta.

Hanoi, like most other Asian cities, is famous for its bad air quality, however, I have discovered that it can easily compete with Moscow, or Buenos Aires for example. To me, the air in Hanoi did not feel any dirtier than in any other big city. It is just that the Vietnamese feel that it is essential to wear a face mask (and often an all covering pajama-style jacket) in the city to try to protect your lungs from all of the dust and pollution you breathe in otherwise. It certainly looks very strange and involuntarily makes you feel nervous, as if you were in the epicenter of a major epidemic area. Nonetheless, I think they are doing the right thing by trying to protect themselves, and more often than not I feel like wearing a facemask on the overcrowded streets of Buenos Aires where fumes are literally choking during peak hours.

My Favorite Squid Stand.

Pajama fashion is a special phenomenon in Vietnam that deserves a special note. First, I thought that all of the pajamas that I was seeing all around us were out and about because it was an early morning hour. As the day went on, though, the outfits did not change, and the women of all ages continued parading around their multicolored and diversely designed pajama suits. From day to day they changed them, as one would change regular clothing, which indicated that the pajamas were their regular clothes. I never found out where this latest fashion came from and how it became widely accepted, but it was definitely entertaining to find yourself surrounded by pajama fashionistas in the middle of a huge metropolis.

No Worries! Trains don't Come Very Often.

Even though Hanoi is a big city it doesn’t feel that way, despite the never ending chaos in the streets. To me, the reason why it didn’t feel like a big city was because the people continue living the way they live in the villages – with all activities happening in the street, in font of their houses. In fact, in many houses the street is an extension of their living rooms. In most houses, the façade part of the building at the ground floor is a wide garage-like gate that stays open the whole day, as the inhabitants go on with their home lives in the living room space – eating their meals, watching TV, playing with children, or arguing. In some houses, the front entrance is blocked by an abundance of very low plastic table and chairs, which serve as restaurant seating. In Vietnam, most of the people eat in the street, since the food is really cheap and is available 24/7 on every corner.  We discovered that the low seating was not something exclusive to impromptu house restaurants, but was the way/ level at which the Vietnamese did everything. Somehow, for them it is more comfortable to prepare dinner, wash dishes, or do anything else in a squatting position, rather than to do it all standing at a normal size table.

PJs Galore!!!

It was all very different and very exotic and I constantly felt like I was in some parallel world where everything was done in a strangely distinct manner that I never knew existed. These few days in Hanoi ware like a brief introduction for what we were about to experience in those last few months of our trip. South East Asia was opening its doors for us and we were eyes and ears trying to absorb and understand what it was all about. 

LA VIDA EN EL DELTA

Solitaria por el Delta

Existe un grupo de ríos a los que se le llama hermanos. No por compartir las mismas tierras, ni por encausarse en algún momento, sino por poseer entre si, cualidades que los hacen únicos e indispensables en el desarrollo de la vida en cada una de sus regiones. Sus orillas fueron las primeras zonas habitadas de cada continente y sus deltas el corazón para la pesca y la agricultura. Entre ellos se destacan el Misisipi en Norteamérica, el Paraná y el Amazonas en America del Sur, el mítico Nilo en África, y el rico y turbio Mekong en Asia. Con sus orígenes en la meseta tibetana China, en las alturas de la cordillera del Himalaya, sus causes descienden de norte a sur haciendo de frontera natural entre Laos y Myanmar primero y Tailandia unos kilómetros mas tarde. Apenas metros antes de ingresar a Camboya logra su mayor anchura (14 Km.), y es en dicho país donde las inundaciones en temporada de lluvia hacen de sus tierras aledañas una de las zonas más fértiles de Asia para el cultivo de arroz. Pero es en su agonía, antes de mezclarse con el agua salada del Mar de China, cuando un delta de mas de 40.000 km2 de superficie le cambia la vida a millones de personas que entre ríos e islas viven sus vidas en el sur de Vietnam, país que recibe las cansadas aguas del Mekong luego de 4.880 Km. de viaje asiático.

Sandias

Desde que decidimos conocer el delta que dudábamos en como hacerlo. Como ya habíamos experimentado, los tours vietnamitas debían ser siempre evitados, pero una región tan amplia y complicada de transitar como un delta repleto de islas y canales, no nos daba demasiadas opciones. Decidimos tomar un tour de solo un día, y que no nos traiga de vuelta a Saigón, sino que nos deje en la ciudad de Can Tho. “Ahí no van a conseguir nada” nos decían, a lo que les contestábamos con toda la seguridad que no teníamos “no se hagan problema, traemos carpa”, como si la fuésemos a armar en el medio de una avenida. Así fue que luego de la recorrida del día al estilo club de jubilados y con un guía que le entendíamos mejor el vietnamita que el ingles, nos dejaron finalmente en la puerta de un hotel, donde sea como sea, debíamos evitar quedarnos si queríamos conocer un poco mas el corazón del delta. De alguna manera nos entendimos con el guía y nos paso el teléfono de Hung, un hombre que según el hospedaba gente en su casa a orillas de uno de los canales del Mekong.

Vendedora de Pijama

Por suerte el ingles de Hung era el mejor que conocimos en Vietnam, y luego de unos 25 minutos en moto y unos tantos kilómetros por callecitas de tierra que cruzaban varios canales, llegamos a su casa gigante, repleta de cerámica y escasa de muebles, a metros del agua marrón y turbia del río. Nos acomodamos en una habitación al lado de la cocina, y rápidamente comenzamos a sentir que estábamos en el lugar correcto. La abuela estaba preparando la comida; unos spring rolls que ella misma se encargo de enseñarnos a armar y luego freír, sumado a otras verduras y pescados sacados no hacia mucho de las aguas marrones del Mekong. La mujer de Hung resulto ser profesora de ingles, y con gran entusiasmo nos enseño un poco lo irreproducible de su idioma, como así también algunos quehaceres rutinarios que nos eran completamente inimaginables. Mezclando el agua color chocolate del río con una piedra de alumbre que compran en el mercado por solo algunos centavos, logran que la tierra y sedimentos se unan y precipiten al fondo del balde. Es increíble como parecen imantarse las partículas de suciedad, descendiendo y amontonándose, dejándola prácticamente transparente. Solo resta un hervor y ese agua turbia y sucia, pasa a ser útil para el consumo de toda la gente que habita las islas donde el agua corriente y potable no les llega a sus viviendas.

Cruzando uno de los Canales

La cena fue simplemente genial. Bien al estilo vietnamita, la mesa repleta de platos que entre todos compartíamos mientras charlábamos mirando a la pequeña calle de tierra en frente del río, por donde entre la oscuridad adivinábamos chicos pasando en bicicleta y algunos ansiamos empujando sus pollos y patos de vuelta hacia sus casas. Al momento de la sobremesa, Hung trajo unas bolsitas con su ya conocido vino de arroz, y con solo un chop stick, lo agujereaba y nos servia para que brindemos con varios chupitos, repitiendo como siempre las tres palabras mágicas: “Mot! Hai! Ba! Do!” (Uno!, dos!, tres!, bebe!).

Puesto Flotante

Al día siguiente nos despertamos bien temprano y un bote de madera con un enorme motor de camioneta naftero, bañado en aceite y humeando por todas las juntas a la vista, regulaba a contra tempo sobre la cola de la pequeña barca mientras un largo eje hacia girar una pequeña hélice de dos astas. A los pocos minutos se sumo Hung, con unas tazas con café, unas bananas y una lata de leche condensada. Comenzaba a amanecer y los colores de la verde vegetación reflejada en el agua prácticamente inmóvil, daban la sensación de navegar entre un pesado mercurio, abriéndonos paso entre cachalotes, esquivando las largas sombras mañaneras. Siendo Can Tho el centro del delta, y la ciudad más grande dentro del mismo, es aquí donde se desarrolla el mercado flotante más grande de Vietnam, y uno de los más grandes del mundo. Es aquí donde la gente sale de compras en bote, en negocios que se hamacan al compás del agua y comerciantes que ofrecen sus productos desde sus embarcaciones.

Sopas para Desayuno

En lo alto de cada barca se alza una caña de la cual cuelgan el producto que ofrecen y si es necesario, en sus diferentes tamaños. Sandias, zanahorias, cebollas, papas, piñas, mangos, cocos, melones; se exponen cual cartel de venta y de presentación del vendedor. Risueñas caras saludan a nuestro paso, haciendo señas intentado persuadirnos de que les compremos algo. Otros botes mas pequeños se los ve humear desde el centro, donde encienden fuego allí mismo para preparar sopas, arroz con carne y verduras, desayunos ya preparados y calientes para quienes se acercan temprano al mercado. Gaseosas que pasan de botellas de vidrio a bolsas plásticas, café caliente y golosinas, completan una amplia variedad para quien ande hambriento. Abriéndose pasó en su pequeño botecito, venia arrodillado en la proa a remo lento y pausado Thien, un vendedor de loterías de una sonrisa inigualable.

Al pasar la zona central y acercarnos mas a las orillas, incuso veíamos como algunas barcas vendían cañerías, hachas, machetes y demás artículos de ferretería y construcción; pero la mayor sorpresa nos la llevamos cuando preguntamos a Hung si no había barcos que vendan carne. Solo basto que levantara su brazo derecho y con la mano abierta (no es de buena educación señalar con un dedo) nos dirija la mirada hacia la punta de una caña de la cual colgaba la cabeza de un cerdo y las patas de una gallina. Es que el mercado lo tiene todo, y como corazón del delta, la vida y el comercio rondan en torno a el.

Mercado Flotante

Todo lo que no sea río, ni tampoco casas, son plantaciones de arroz. Cada isla posee grandes campos que aprovechan la fertilidad de las tierras y lo fácil de la inundación para la siembra y cosecha del “oro blanco” vietnamita. De la misma manera, muchas fábricas se alzan en la zona, para lo que son los trabajos posteriores a la cosecha, en donde se lleva la espiga en bruto, al grano perfecto y listo para el consumo. Grandes tambores giran cual centrifugadoras gigantes y por medio de pelos de alambres quitan primero la cáscara, para luego ser agitados por grandes paletas de goma, las cuales lo limpian de la capa marrón que llevan adherida (arroz integral), dejándolo blanco y libre de impurezas. Una serie de tamices se encargan de filtrar y seleccionar los diferentes granos, ya que dichas maquinas lo rompen con bastante facilidad, y así clasifican entre los diferentes tipos de calidad. Absolutamente todo es utilizado, desde el grano más largo y perfecto para la exportación, hasta los más rotos y el polvo del arroz integral para alimento de aves y cerdos; y las cáscaras para fuego y luego abono con sus cenizas. Incluso los granos mas rotos son prensados y con la leche que extraen mezclada con tapioca, cuecen una especie de panqueques súper finos, que al secarse los cortan en cintas, obteniendo los famosos fideos de arroz.

Volviendo a casa luego de la compra

A las 8 de la mañana el mercado se dispersa y desaparece. Lentamente volvíamos entre este gran laberinto acuático, apreciando la vida e intentando reconocernos como uno mas que vuelve del mercado a su casa con la compra para la semana. A un lado una mujer con un pañuelo en la cabeza, lavaba su ropa en la vera del río. Mas adelante, un anciano muy flaco y en cueros, se disponía a preparar sus redes para la pesca del día. Varios chicos se acercaban a saludar y Hung les tiraba chupetines desde el bote. Desde lo alto de algunas palmeras, grandes cocos amenazan con agujerearnos el bote cual bala de cañón, mientras algunos peces saltan hacia los lados como tratando de salirse del camino de la hélice de nuestro pesado motor. El delta es mágico; genera una especie de micro sistema de vida diferente, que adapta a seres a vivir en torno a el y nos permite a nosotros vernos inmersos al menos por unos días en lo que es esta vida que no parece haber sido alterada en mucho tiempo. Esta fabulosa vida en el delta.