A Trip Back to Vietnam: January 6 - 18, 1992

by Ann Kelsey Army Special Services--Libraries, Cam Ranh Bay, 1969-1970
Copyright 1992 Ann L. Kelsey, All Rights Reserved

Ann Kelsey served as a civilian librarian with Army Special Services in Vietnam in 1969-1970. Working out of Cam Ranh Bay, she administered libraries in Nha Trang, Dong Ba Thin, and the 6th Convalescent Center. 

She returned to Vietnam for the first time since the war in 1992 and made another trip in October 1994 as a member of a humanitarian group, Project: Hearts and Minds, delivering medical supplies to clinics and hospitals. She co-authored an article on civilian women who served in Vietnam for the November 1993 issue of the "VVA Veteran" and wrote a brief history of Special Services in Vietnam for the dedication program of the Vietnam Women's Memorial. 

She is currently the Associate Director of the County College of Morris Learning Resource Center in Randolph, New Jersey.

The CIEE (Council on International Educational Exchange) international faculty development seminar group gathered in Bangkok on Monday, January 6. There were 40 people because the group scheduled to go in June 1991 didn't go and were combined with the January group. The Vietnamese cancelled the June seminar three weeks before the group's departure because of a major party conference in Hanoi. We later learned that we were the largest group of Americans to visit Vietnam since 1975. 

There were two Vietnamese Americans in the group, both of whom spoke Vietnamese. There were also several returnees: a former Special Forces officer, who had been in the Central Highlands (Kontum); a psychology professor, who was blinded when a rocket hit his APC in a rubber plantation between Cu Chi and Tay Ninh; one of the Vietnamese Americans who worked for USAID in Saigon in late sixties-early seventies; a former Navy radio-message interceptor in the Gulf of Tonkin, who spoke and understood some Vietnamese; an ex-Air Force reserve pencil pusher at MACV; a gentleman who was US vice-consul in Hanoi in the late forties, and me. 

There were some problems with the visas. They might or might not be issued; and if they were, there might be a day or two delay. 

Tuesday, January 7:
Departure to airport delayed because visas were still in doubt. 

Everyone was getting nervous. People headed for banks and money changers to get more baht in case stay in Thailand was longer than planned. Around 10:30 word came that visas had been granted but would be picked up on arrival in Hanoi.  Everyone piled on two buses for ride to airport, no mean feat in Bangkok traffic. Upon arrival at airport, the logistics of getting 40 people checked in, handed boarding passes, parts of tickets, cleared through Thai immigration and security and assembled at the gate began. 

Plane landed in Hanoi and the paperwork began--two custom's declaration forms, one entry-exit permit. Vietnamese security personnel were really interested in my camcorder and camera. 

After getting through the "entrance formalities," everyone and their luggage were loaded into two Russian buses. There was a significant delay as one of our group, not realizing the implications, was found to have brought in 15 copies of a single book title and a labeled off-the-air VHS copy of television programming from a station in LA's Little Saigon--all of which she declared on her custom's form, and all of which were immediately confiscated. 

As we drove out of the airport, I was struck by the huge signs advertising Japanese products, JVC, etc. It was almost dark, cold and dank. No one had enough clothes on to combat the chilly drafts pouring in through the numerous spaces around the windows and doors of the bus. Passed an old church, cathedral really, as we left the airport. Clearly no longer in use; looked as if it might have been bombed or burned. 

More electricity in evidence than I would have thought. Most houses and stores used fluorescent rather than incandescent lighting, but power and street lights were certainly in evidence. (I heard, as we were leaving on Saturday, that the streetlights were pulled out of the South and installed in Hanoi in '75.) Houses and shops looked just like they did in the South and also in China, basically open fronts, easy to see in. It was colder here than it had been in years, and people were bundled up. There was no such thing as central heating. 

The roads in Hanoi were in relatively good shape, but quality eroded as we left the city. The bus clearly had lost its suspension a long time ago. Not realizing that we would be riding for 3.5+ hours, we were somewhat sloppy about stowing the luggage. As a result, those of us in the back of the bus, in proximity to the bulk of it, spent a lot of time jockeying around to avoid being hit by flying suitcases. 

Rivers were crossed on railroad bridges; that is, we drove on the tracks. I have no idea who got the right-of-way, and a situation never occurred that allowed me to find out. Obviously, bombing destroyed the bridges; and it wasn't possible to rebuild both the train and road bridges. So, one has to suffice for both. The bridges were representative of the general state of the country's infrastructure--barely hanging together. 

By now, it was pitch black. Couldn't see anything except the lights in the houses and stores that we passed. We were cold, hungry, and bruised; but it sure was exciting. Everybody was in a good humor.  

Finally, in Haiphong, the buses halted for a potty break. We walked around a bit in the square. The Vietnamese with us were very nervous. Said this was a bad area. Cop came and told buses to move from square to street. Walked over to where bus had moved. A few beggars approached; but, basically, there seemed to be a lot of curiosity but certainly no hostility or animosity. 

Back on the bus; only a 20-30 minute or so ride before we arrived in Do Son at 2200. We came to Do Son, an old French resort on the Gulf of Tonkin, because there were not enough rooms available to accommodate a group of our size for three nights in Hanoi. 

Our Vietnamese academic counterparts had arrived but had given up on us and gone to bed. We got our rooms and then got dinner. We hauled our stuff up the stairs to the third floor. 

Room was small and cold but very clean. Staff from the Energy Guest House in Hanoi had been at Do Son for four months cleaning, and it showed. Bathroom had no shower stall area--just buckets, but there was hot water for the shower. None for the sink. The toilet was western, I guess because this used to be a French resort; and there was toilet paper. 

The facilities were far better than I dreamed they would be. If there was heat, it would be fine. 

Dumped stuff and went to dinner. Served us some "Vietnamese vodka," rice wine, which took the chill off. The food was adequate; only thing totally inedible was the chicken. One of the Vietnamese servers sat down and asked me specifically why I wasn't eating it. I said I was full, which I was since I filled up on rice and beer--my basic diet for most of the trip. 

After dinner, we headed for bed. Some of us managed to obtain an extra blanket. After the first night, they came up with sleeping bag type blankets, which kept us warmer. I put on long underwear, gloves, nightgown, and robe. I was marginally warm, but it was clear that I was not taking a bath until we left here. I would be frostbitten before I dried off. 

Wednesday, January 8:
Seminar sessions (the seminar's topic was "Understanding Vietnam's Historical Perspectives") began in the morning and continued throughout the day. We had assigned seating and there had been a deliberate effort made to mix everyone up so that Americans were not clustered with Americans and Vietnamese with Vietnamese. 

There was one Vietnamese woman in the group, and she made an effort to switch her seat so she was next to me. She spoke no English, only Vietnamese and Russian; but was very anxious to interact with the women in the group. Because there was nothing more isolated than a summer resort in the winter, in terms of mixing with counterparts, this was an ideal situation. We essentially lived together for the length of the stay, and this allowed us to get to know each other far better than we were able to get to know the Vietnamese in Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC). 

Doi Moi (renovation) was clearly the central theme of this meeting. The Vietnamese in attendance were the cream of Hanoi's intellectual community and by extension, we assumed, the cream of Vietnam's intellectual community. 

There was absolutely no animosity or hostility. Everyone was very friendly and outgoing. Everyone wanted the U.S. to normalize relations, and this became a recurring theme of the seminar. Everyone said that the past was past, and it was time to get on with the future. There were, however, a few fleeting signs of past enmities. An old gentleman who spoke perfect French, asked me if this was my first trip to Vietnam. I replied in French that no, it was my second. My first was in the south in 1969.  His eyes flickered, and he changed the subject. 

Each paper presented was followed by a question and answer period and a break for interactive exchange. One gentleman gave me a list of some of the books about Vietnam in the University library. I asked him how big the library was. He said only two small rooms, not big at all; and not very many books. I talked to another man who translated English literature into Vietnamese. 

It was bone chilling cold. No one cared what they looked like. They simply put on all of the clothing that would fit on their bodies to stay warm. 

That evening the hotel staff, imported from Hanoi, saw the opportunity to do a little partying. They played sixties music mixed with Vietnamese pop at full blast and encouraged everyone to dance. 

During the lunch breaks and in the morning before the sessions started and in the evening before dinner, several of us tried to walk around Do Son village and the beach. Some people went at night but were told the next day not to do that. 

Again, everyone in the village was very friendly. The kids wanted their pictures taken everywhere we went. They weren't particularly interested in seeing the finished product (no one had a Polaroid); they just wanted the camera aimed at them and clicked while they posed. 

Everyone was very friendly. I found this amazing. This town, so close to Haiphong sitting on the Gulf of Tonkin, had to have gotten hit hard and often. Several people in the group pointed out ponds that were most likely bomb craters. One would expect a certain amount of residual animosity, at least from the older people; but it really wasn't there. 

Since most of our time was to be spent in cities, it was nice to be able to see something of life in a smaller town. Everyone had little truck farms. Lettuce and corn were growing right next to the hotel driveway. The sun didn't come out at all while we were there; so, pictures of the beaches were pretty gray. But this must be a beautiful area in the summer. 

Thursday, January 9:
Seminar ended in the morning. 

Closing remarks were made by Mr. Du, a very interesting and intelligent man. He spoke several languages fluently and was head of the agency in the Ministry of Education charged with facilitating international cooperation. He had a great sense of humor and a sense of what was funny in several different languages. He indicated that he would probably be with us some of the time in HCMC. 

In fact, he attended the final dinner before we left Saigon to go back to Bangkok. At that time, he said he never would have believed, 25 years ago, when he was firing an anti-aircraft battery on the roof of a hotel in Hanoi, that he would be standing on the roof of another hotel with so many American friends. 

I guess most of us felt the same way. I know that 22 years ago, when I stood on the roof of the Rex hotel (then BOQ) and watched the tracers shoot across the sky, I never would have believed that I would be with this group on that very same roof in 1992. 

In the afternoon, we went on a bus excursion to Haiphong. On the way, we got to see more of Do Son's beaches and the former summer house of Bao Dai. The latter was in disrepair but had a fantastic view of the beach and gulf. Wish it had been a little brighter. 

In Haiphong, we visited a pagoda, not sure which one, and were immediately surrounded by curious residents. 

Bus passed the harbor and stopped at the central market. Couldn't see too much of the famous harbor, but the market was fascinating. It was full of goods of all kinds--food, bed linens, car parts, clothing, military surplus from several different countries and wars; you name it and much of it foreign, probably coming over the border from Thailand. Clearly the entrepreneurial spirit had been strongly regenerated since the advent of doi moi. Saw one cyclo driver in a US Army fatigue
shirt. 

I was amazed at the bustling level of activity. That night there was a performance of Cai Luong, modern Vietnamese theatre--a combination of Chinese opera, Mack Sennett, and Burns and Allen. Unfortunately, there was a firecracker show immediately preceding the performance. I should have retreated to the room during the firecrackers and come down afterwards, but I thought sitting in the theatre while the firecrackers were going off outside would be sufficient. 

I was wrong. Instinct took over. I was able to keep myself from climbing under the chair but not able to refrain from the under-attack, protective position. 

Friday, January 10:
Got up early for the 3.5 hour ride back to Hanoi. This time we could see as we bumped along. 

The area between Haiphong and Hanoi was rural. Lots and lots of rice paddies and small villages. No mountains or hills--a great view of the Red River delta. Everything and everyone was bustling. People working in the fields, produce being carried to market and sold. 

The other striking thing was the houses. Most had the date that they were built clearly visible, and all were built in the eighties--a few in the early eighties but most since 1985. Clearly this area was pretty much destroyed by the bombings and had only been rebuilt very recently. 

One wonders how many people working in those fields have been, and will continue to be, killed by unexploded ordnance.  Still, there was no animosity. 

We arrived in Hanoi just in time for lunch, stopping first at Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, which was closed. We stayed at the Energy Guest House downtown, and it had *heat*. 

Walked around the downtown area with some economics teachers from the university who wanted to practice their English.  They learn English from listening to tapes, and this was their first opportunity to talk to a real English-speaking person and find out if their pronunciation was correct. 

Downtown Hanoi still looked very French and very colonial. There was heavy bicycle traffic but almost no motorized vehicles.  Small shops and stores lined the streets. As we passed the Air France office, one of the Vietnamese teachers remarked that four years ago this street was shuttered and quiet. Doi moi, with its emphasis on a market economy, had made a definite difference. 

Saturday, January 11:
Got up at literally the crack of dawn to go to the airport for flight to HCMC. It would have been nice to have been able to spend more time in Hanoi; but I have to admit that I was anxious to get to Saigon and a little nervous, too. 

Plane landed at Tan Son Nhut. It looked different. It was so quiet. The hustle and bustle, the millions of C-130s, choppers, airliners, etc., etc., were gone. You could see the remains of some of the hangers, but it was a totally different place.  

The arrivals area was also different. The open air quonset huts were gone, as were the warehouse like areas; and, of course, there were not whole extended families living in the aerial port like there were at TSN and Cam Ranh in 1970. Very different. 

They loaded us up on buses that I'm sure were old Saigon Hq Area Command vehicles, but the wire mesh over the windows was gone. 

The main road into town looked the same, except that it was not clogged with military vehicles. Many of the street names have been changed; so, it took me a couple of days to remember that this street was Cong Ly. The squatter colony along the canal that Cong Ly crosses was pretty much gone. That area was teeming before. 

I recognized a lot of former BOQ's and military facilities. I thought I recognized the building that was the 3rd Field Hospital, but I wasn't absolutely sure. 

As we passed the old Presidential Palace, I spotted Nguyen Du St.; name was still the same. It all looked the same, the General Post Office, the Notre Dame Cathedral, the Presidential Palace... It was a strange feeling to see it all again. It felt as if I were just here yesterday. 

We went down Tu Do, now called Dong Khoi, and passed the Continental Hotel and the old National Assembly building, which was a theatre before and had been returned to that function after 1975. Macbeth was playing. 

The Continental terrace, where everyone, including the protagonists of Graham Greene's Quiet American, had come to drink, had been enclosed; so, it didn't look quite the same. 

The theatre used to be white; now it's yellow. The statue of the ARVN soldiers, that used to be in front of the theatre, was gone; but the base was still there. The Caravelle Hotel, now called the Doc Lap, looked just the same. 

We pulled up in front of the Bong Sen hotel, which was in the old Eden building, that had been JUSPAO headquarters. The lacquer and ceramic shops along Tu Do looked just the same. The only things missing were the Saigon tea establishments, and that was no loss. 

Several of us went to the Continental for lunch. The Continental shelf, enclosed, was now Guido's cafe, specializing in pizza and spaghetti with fresh mushrooms served by waiters in black tie. The hotel itself had been totally redone, but the old dining room overlooking the inner courtyard where I had breakfast my first day in country looked just the same. 

After lunch I went walking. I walked down Nguyen Du from the Cathedral towards the Presidential Palace. I wanted to see if the Meyerkord BOQ, where I lived in 1969, and the Hq. Area Command library, where I worked, were still there. The street looked pretty run down but not a lot worse than it did in '69. Families were living on the street but nowhere near as many as before. 

I passed the old Splendid BOQ, where the officers' field ration mess was. It looked pretty bad. The building where the VC were holed up during the attack on the Presidential Palace during Tet '68--that was gutted and guarded 24 hours a day by ARVN and white mice--was torn down. 

In its place was a modern computer store, with signs advertising Epson, Bernoulli, etc., etc. I noticed in Hanoi and Haiphong, and saw here now, a large number of TV's and VCR's. There were also a number of video stores. That was a real surprise. I also saw compact disc ads and stores here and there. 

The building that housed the Filipino--or was it the Korean embassy, I'm not sure--was still there. Couldn't tell what it was used for now. 

The Meyerkord was still there. Looked a little run-down, needed a coat of paint, but basically the same. It seemed to be an apartment, which was probably what it was before the Americans took it over and turned it into a billet. I peeked inside but didn't feel comfortable going in. 

Nguyen Du, between the Meyerkord and the library, was much more run-down. I spotted the storefront, that was the beauty shop where I got my hair cut; but it was no longer there. Seemed to be auto parts now. I barely recognized the library.  It seemed to be some sort of government office. There were lots of people waiting in line at both doors. 

I could barely see the roofs of the sheds in back that held the areas where book shipments were received and books were cataloged before sending them out to the libraries upcountry. I remember when a rocket scored a direct hit on the technical services operation, wreaking havoc on the in country shelf list. At the time, I was just glad that it had not landed on the Meyerkord a block away. 

A bunch of us went to dinner at the Rex Hotel, the old Rex BOQ, that, with its swimming pool and restaurant, was one of THE places to go in 1969 Saigon. It, too, had been completely redone. 

I barely recognized the lobby, and the 5th floor dining room/bar had been completely redone. It had been all dark wood and red wallpaper. Now, it was light and airy; and the windows were covered with beaded screens, one of which was the Mona Lisa.  The bar/restaurant area, that was enclosed on the roof, was now open air, with statues, topiary, and live birds in cages. The pool on the sixth floor was also open air. The souvenir stand, where I bought a watch and earrings, was still in exactly the same place behind the elevators. 

After dinner, we sat on the rooftop and drank Ba Muoi Ba--now 333 instead of 33, cans instead of bottles, but the same stuff.  There was a piano/violin duet playing in the dining room--a mixture of Mozart and old 50's and 60's songs, like Delilah and Love Me Tender. It felt like being in a time warp. 

The intersection of Le Loi and Nguyen Hue looked just the same. The fountain was still there, and the little souvenir and flower stalls were still in the center of Nguyen Hue. There was an enormous statue of Ho Chi Minh across from the Rex in front of City Hall and lots of Japanese billboards on the Eden and other surrounding buildings, but it could just as easily have been 1970 as 1992--except for one thing--no tracer fire in the sky and no sandbags in the streets. 

Sunday, January 12:
Got up early and headed for Cu Chi to see the famous tunnels. 

The vet in our group, who spent his tour here before he was hit, knew the area like the back of his hand--maybe because it was the last thing that he saw. He told his wife to look for certain landmarks and then described exactly what was there and what was going on there twenty some years ago. 

Again, the growth and the houses were new here. There was very little sign of the triple canopy jungle that had been there before the Agent Orange spraying missions. It hasn't had time to grow back. 

The Cu Chi tunnels have turned into a tourist attraction, complete with T-shirts, beer and soda, and video presentations. A Vietnamese vet, with an amputated arm, did the presentation. 

Afterwards, he and the American vet talked, with one of the Vietnamese-Americans in our group serving as interpreter. It doesn't seem right somehow, that this place where so many people died, on both sides, from defoliant, carpet bombing, punji sticks, rockets, etc., should be a mini-Disneyland with carefully crafted tunnels for the tourists to go into. 

I couldn't bring myself to go into the tunnels. Turning this battlefield into a semi-amusement park really bothered me.  Somebody asked me if I felt that way about Gettysburg, and I guess I don't; but Gettysburg doesn't have the immediacy of Cu Chi. 

In the evening, there was dinner and a reception with our Vietnamese counterparts. In strong contrast to the north, these people did not want to mingle. They clustered to themselves. This was true throughout the week. 

After dinner everyone went to the Bamboo Bar at the Continental. Here, there was a trio playing Mozart, tangos, and sixties tunes. ...Time warp again. 

Monday, January 13:
At 8 AM the papers started again. The first was given by a real old timer--very dogmatic and full of party doctrine. 

We were free in the afternoon, so we went on cyclos to the local black market where they sold military goods. Truly an unending supply of pretty much new boonie caps and other assorted memorabilia from not only the American war, but also the incursion into Cambodia. I was amazed at the amount and variety of stuff that was for sale. This place would have made a lot of Army/Navy store owners in the States jealous. 

The cyclo drivers, all of them former ARVN, escorted us around the market. We were something of an oddity, but everyone was more than happy to see us. The entrepreneurial spirit, for which Saigon was so well known, has obviously been rekindled. 

On the way back the cyclo drivers asked if we wanted to go via the riverfront. They took us to the Ho Chi Minh Museum on the waterfront. We looked around and watched a puppet show that was going on outside, not to mention all of the wedding pictures being taken. The brides all wore western gowns, very satiny and frilly, instead of ao dais. The guests were all in frilly western clothes too. Only the elderly wore ao dais in these groups. 

Lots more kids wanted their pictures taken. Again they didn't really care about the pictures themselves. The attraction was the idea of posing. 

This was my first view of the waterfront. I never came down here in 1969--too many brothels, not the area of choice for a female round eye. The statue of Tran Hung Dao at the base of the waterfront, where the floating hotel is, was really impressive.  The cyclos rode us up Hai Ba Trung, where, as they pointed out, all the bars used to be. They're all gone now. 

Went to dinner at the Caravelle. It hadn't changed at all. After dinner, I went out on the terrace and looked at the sky across the river. It was quiet and black instead of being lit up with streaks of orange and white, accompanied by the thud and whistling of incoming and outgoing. I hope that now, when I think of Vietnam, I can think of it at peace rather than at war. 

Tuesday, January 14:
More papers in the morning. One had to do with the linguistic and ethnologic history of Vietnam. 

During the lunch break, we went to Cafe Givral. It's across from the Continental and used to be a hangout for the press corps.  Now it's owned by the state and is one of the few places that you have to pay in dong. Otherwise everybody happily takes dollars. 

This afternoon, after lunch, we went on a tour of Reunification Hall, formerly the Presidential Palace. It was the first time I had been inside. It's somewhat the worse for wear, although they have maintained Thieu and Ky's meeting rooms and personal quarters, as well as the underground communications bunker. Kind of weird that this would be a tourist site. You would have thought they would have razed it. 

Most of the group wanted to go to the war crimes museum, but it was closed today. We were promised, however, that we would be able to see all the museums that we wanted to see. 

After we were dropped off at the hotel, we walked over to the floating hotel. Can you imagine? A bankrupt luxury hotel towed from Australia and sitting on the Saigon waterfront, complete with swimming pool and tennis courts and bellboys in little sailor suits. 

Had dinner at Maxim's. Although I was never there in '69, it apparently was one of the better places to eat. It closed in '75, but the advent of doi moi seems to have resurrected it. 

The floor show was fascinating. It started out with Vietnamese music, then went into more 60's pop (Bamboo Bar, Hello Dolly), and finished off with Japanese pop. There was a large group from Seiko in town, and they were there in force. They really got into it, giving the singers drinks and flowers and getting up on stage for a little karaoke. People who had been there a few days earlier said there was a singer in blue sequins singing "Your Cheating Heart." 

Wednesday, January 15:
We were supposed to have papers morning and afternoon today, but they compressed both into the morning so that we could have the afternoon free after the tour of the history museum and the university. Trips were being arranged to Vung Tau and Tay Ninh for Thursday and Friday. 

The size of the group was a real strain on the Vietnamese and on the CIEE people trying to deal with all of the bureaucratic details for which Vietnam is so well known, which haven't changed a bit regardless of who is in charge. 

Had lunch at Givral and then boarded the buses for the history museum, which was moderately interesting. It was located next to the zoo, that I remembered visiting in '69; so, a few of us ducked out to check out the zoo. It looked as rundown as it did in '69, both the surroundings and the animals. One interesting sidelight was a Vietnamese teenager wearing a Desert Storm T-shirt. 

This was the only place other than Tu Do where there was a horde of beggars. The beggars were upsetting to everybody. Lots of maimed, blind people being led around as well as groups of kids, mothers with babies, etc.; but, even so, there didn't seem to be as many as there were in '69, nor did they seem as widespread. Unfortunately, I see just as many or more in New York and San Francisco. 

After the history museum, we went to the university. Most of the people visited English classes, but I went to the library. It was really awful. 

Moldy wood shelves packed with moldy disintegrating books. Many books were tied with baling wire and thrown in heaps. It was dark and dank. The reference shelf had a moldy Grolier encyclopedia from the mid 60's, an '85 Britannica they said was a gift (parenthetically, I met the person who had distributed those encyclopedias at an NGO conference at SUNY Stony Brook in June), and a few other items--maybe 100 total, including the multivolume encyclopedias. Pretty depressing.  

I wonder if the library at Hanoi University looked like this. They use the Russian classification system, and there is no real subject access to individual items. It's more like the LC subject headings book, where a subject heading is associated with a class number, but individual titles are not analyzed for subject content. Of course, everything is closed stacks. It would be impossible to browse, anyway. 

After leaving the university and being deposited at the hotel, we hired cyclos to go to Cholon. All of the drivers were former ARVN. One was at the ARVN officer's school at Ft. Benning, and all of them would like to get to the States. Of course, as re-eds, they are one of the few groups that the U.S. will class as refugees and let in. Of course, as re-eds, they are the group that the Vietnamese government has no intention of giving exit papers to--a real catch 22. 

It was quite a distance to Cholon, about half an hour. Passed the central market at the circle at the foot of Le Loi. One of the drivers knew where the old Cholon PX was. It's a school now. Cholon was pretty much cleared out when China and Vietnam went to war in the late seventies, but many seem to have returned. 

We walked around the food and pharmaceuticals market. There was a body in the street that wasn't moving. Everybody, including us, just went around it. Maybe dead, maybe sleeping, who knows? 

The cyclo drivers took us back down Tran Hung Dao to Le Van Duyet and onto Nguyen Du, so I had the opportunity to shoot more pictures of the old HAC library. They let us off at the Presidential Palace, and we walked over to the war crimes museum.

I wasn't thrilled about seeing it but went along figuring I could just walk out. Actually, most of the exhibits were weaponry: guillotines (French), Huey's, M16's, BAR's, etc., as well as the infamous tiger cages. I skipped the room with the napalm pictures and deformed fetuses. 

After the war crimes museum, we walked over to Gia Long Palace where Diem lived. Some of the kids on the street were trying to get one of the people in the group to give them a flute he had bought. When he wouldn't, they called him "Cheap Charlie."  These kids weren't more than twelve or thirteen. Where did they pick up that GI slang? 

Many of the kids on the street say hello with the accent on the first syllable, just like the kids did in the sixties. Have those kids grown up and taught their kids the slang they learned from the GIs? Why would they do that? For whatever reason, it seems they have. You don't hear number one or number ten much except from the cyclo drivers, all of whom, I suspect, are former ARVN. 

Directly behind Gia Long palace was the Rex tennis club. Here were people in whites playing tennis with ball boys fetching the balls. Easy listening music was blaring from speakers located next to helicopters and anti-aircraft batteries on display on the Gia Long Palace lawn. What a tableau! 

Had dinner at the Palace Hotel. On the 15th floor, where the restaurant was, the view was quite spectacular. Saigon is as entrepreneurial and bustling as ever but without the craziness of thousands of military and their assorted vehicles. Mostly there were bicycles and motor scooters on the streets with only an occasional car or truck. The little blue and white Renault cabs that we all rode around in are gone completely. Otherwise, things seemed much the same. 

It's strange that you don't have to be looking over your shoulder wondering if someone is going to let go with a rifle shot or a car bomb or if some of those rocket tracers across the river are heading in your general direction. 

Everything is much the same, except that there is no war. The other side of the coin, however, is that no progress has been made in twenty years. The infrastructure is shot. Material left by the U.S. is being reused, revamped, and repaired over and over again. It's just the same because there has been no opportunity to move forward. 

Thursday, January 16:
Listened to papers AM and PM. The morning presenter was a real old timer. Had been either first or second in command of NLF forces in the South. Had been a Viet Minh left behind as a sleeper in '54. He was also one of the architects of doi moi, but apparently his views were too liberal, so he was exiled to the South. 

After lunch at Givral, where they moved people around to seat us because we'd become regulars, we went on a tour of the city library, which was really a science and technical library, not a public library as we know it. 

Parenthetically, I think the French are also returning, if, in fact, they ever left. They are in the restaurants and on the streets; and since they drink the water and eat raw veggies, they must have immunity. So, they've been here for awhile. 

Getting back to the city library. It was in much better shape than the university. There was a reference room with metal shelving, and the books were in better condition and much more up to date. They had a lot of computer materials and apparently are starting to use a computer to generate their catalog cards. 

They had 15 floors of closed stacks with a runner assigned to every three floors. It takes between five minutes and one-half hour to get a book once it has been requested. The periodicals room was twice the size of the university's. We did not get to see the stack area or the processing area; so, for all I know, they may have looked as bad as the university's. But, in general, things seemed better. It was clear that the heaviest users of this facility were university students. 

Afterwards, we went to find the intersection where the Buddhist monk immolated himself in the early 60's. All the street names had changed, but one of the Vietnamese-Americans on the trip knew where it was and pointed it out on one of the maps we were carrying around. Sure enough, there it was, with a nice little memorial and plaque on one corner and on the other corner...a huge gas station. What irony. 

Friday, January 17:
Left early for our day trip to Tay Ninh. The vet who had been blinded outside Cu Chi knew every inch of the road. We passed the rubber plantation where he was hit. All along the road, in rice paddies and villages, there is cemetery after cemetery. Some large, and some with only one grave marker, but unending; and these were just the ones that we could see from the road. It's really hard to believe that we were riding along on a field trip in an air-conditioned Toyota tourist van on a road where so many people, on both sides, were maimed and killed such a relatively short time ago. 

There was hardly any evidence of jungle left--a few stands of trees around the villages, some new growth. The land had been pretty much cut and cleared for farming. One wonders how much unexploded ordnance is still lurking out there and where the dioxin is in the food chain now. 

The highlight of the trip was the visit to the Cao Dai temple. There was a funeral procession going on, and we were able to see part of a Cao Dai religious service. 

We also walked around Tay Ninh. We passed a sidewalk video rental operation as well as a stall selling audio-cassettes. The owner had a sophisticated dubbing operation going right on the street. Although the power supply is erratic, when it's on, plenty seems to be plugged in. 

The hotels had their own generators, but a good portion of Saigon was black most nights because of lack of power. This problem seemed greater in the South than in the North; due, I think, to water shortages in the South, which keep the hydroelectric plants from functioning at the level they need to. 

When we got back to the hotel, we ran around taking pictures of the old Brink BOQ and of the infamous new bar, Apocalypse Now--a real dive. Went to dinner at Maxim's and took pictures of the floor show, then went to the Rex for a last drink on the roof. When we came down around midnight, the latest we'd been out, the streets were deserted. No bikes, no scooters, no vehicles, no people. I don't ever remember Saigon being that quiet. 

Saturday, January 18:
At 8:30 we left for Tan Son Nhut. Getting through Vietnamese customs and security was a real scene. Total chaos, just like I remembered it. 

People who had bought books of coin on the street had them confiscated as old money. The customs inspector wanted, initially, to look at everything I bought but lost interest when I indicated that the tables would have to be cleared so that I could lay all my stuff out. Several inspectors wanted a last look at my video camera. 

When we exited at immigration, we each had to walk through in alphabetical order while our name was checked off on the group visa. The immigration officer thought this was terribly amusing. Actually, it was kind of funny. 

The airplane was a big Airbus, operated by a Bulgarian company under contract to Air Vietnam. The pilot was Bulgarian, the flight attendants were Bulgarian, and the beef stew served for lunch was definitely Bulgarian. 

I really want to go back. I want to see Cam Ranh when it's finally declassified, and I'd like to go back to Nha Trang. I'd also like to see Dalat, Da Nang, Hue, and more of Hanoi. Weird as it sounds, I missed Vietnam. It meant a lot seeing it again and seeing it at peace rather than as a battleground. 

I wonder what the next ten years will bring. Will it turn into a Singapore or Thailand? Will the Marxists be able to retain their hold on the government? If not, what will emerge? What will normalization bring? 

I'm glad I had this opportunity, not only to be able to go back myself, but to be there with people who have had much the same ambivalent feelings as I have toward the country and the war for so many years. I think we all gained a lot from the experience.

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