Unnamed Nation

We visited this nation, stretching 1700 kilometers north to south and home to over 101 million people. It lies between Singapore and Hong Kong. It fought a bloody “War of Independence” from 1945, when the occupying Japanese left, to 1975. The USA sided with the South and led the charge against the North. Our family and many others protested against this war and wished for peace.  

Fifty years later, the country is firmly in the control of the Party. The plainclothes thought police are everywhere. That which might enhance a circumscribed life of earn and spend is nonexistent or strictly regulated. There is a food culture and a shopping culture. Religion, art, writing and music are controlled. This is the country that persecutes Buddhist monks and nuns for insufficient national unity. The beggars and hawkers have vanished  from the downtown streets. Security guards watch the public. No birds. No doggies. One bicyclist. No runners. One teen boy wore a sassy T-Shirt with the slogan “Make Money Not Friends.” Dangerous electrical wiring abounds.

Young people approached me to practice their English. Mostly young women smiled and wanted to say hello and a little conversation. A male film crew from Van Lang University stopped me on the “Book Street” (created in 2016) and asked to interview me in English. I then spoke on camera about how delicious and fresh the local cuisine was and about my fondness for Spring Rolls. 

Our Lady Cathedral is still fenced off, as it has been for years. No obvious work was being done. Compared with cathedrals like Saint Stephen in Vienna, where actual workers repaired the facade as we watched, we saw no construction. I think the Party disliked seeing all those brides posing in front of Notre Dame on Instagram. Better they should pose for photos in front of the Great One’s Mausoleum.

I am intrigued by the folk songs. They sound like Chinese folk songs. The song names are devoted to nature. No sad cowboys and no dogies. No long black veils. More like: “Addressing the Floating Clouds at Sunrise” or “Sea Mists Stretch over the Majestic Mountain.”

Without JG breaking trail for me, I had to fend off grabby men who wanted to guide or otherwise interact with me. Not a big deal. My walking companion Daphne was more flustered.

The white-haired western lady in the foreground is Daphne from Leicestershire, a former CPA who now resides in Victoria, BC. She asked if she could “tag along” with me because she felt unsafe by herself. I had GPS on my cellphone and felt confident getting around, so I played personal tour guide. She wondered where all the old people were. The retirement age keeps advancing. It used to be 50 for women and 55 for men. Now it’s 55 for women and 60 for men and will continue to advance. I saw no old people in the central city, either.

I did learn how to cross the street successfully. There are breaks in the flow of motorbikes and vehicles and signals are either red or absent. I used sweeping gestures and eye contact to wade through the traffic at a constant pace. 

We visited a Taoist temple. I had watched as a lady burned play money for her deceased husband to use in the spirit world. I told my husband I’d be sending him sunblock, wool socks, and hiking boots for use in the Hereafter. 

There used to be chinks in the wall around the people. The government had not cracked down on every single aspect of culture. Today the opera house hosts a sound and light show. 

We visited a museum dedicated to the local War that ended 50 years ago. Here in English, tourists could read about and see photos of the artillery, the prisons, and the atrocities of war. I was ashamed of my country’s devastation of this country. 

I am unmoved by the joy of shopping here. This is a land of merchandise created by a biddable non-union workforce. Understand the tiers. Many designer goods, the expensive premium goods, are made in this country. Fake designer goods circulate as well. Knock offs are made to look like designer goods but without the label. Seconds are designer goods that have some flaw and can’t be sold at premium prices. Some tourists squeal with delight at the shopping here. Their ambition is to snag those fancy expensive-looking goods: shoes, clothes, handbags, etc. at steep discounts. I’m not the target customer; I’m the Target customer. I admire nice things but have no interest in spending the money to get them, nor in buying designer goods off price. 

I like handcrafts, but don’t want to buy any. I was taken in by a circle of ladies embroidering floral motifs on a tablecloth stretched on a hoop. The sales lady showed me a sample of the fine hand-stitched table linens. I bought one, which was delivered to me shrink-wrapped in plastic. When I opened the package later, I found machine-stitched embroidery, not the handiwork of a huddle of ladies. I had been sold an attractive back story for a sewing machine’s product. I guess it was a knock off of designer goods.