This country held too many magical moments to be able to organize all of my thoughts.  Vietnam was tropical, festive, open, rustic and modern, polished and developing.  It felt happy.  Colorful.  And warm.  It was hot.  And, the people were ready to laugh and help when we needed it.  They were magnificent hosts.

Upon arrival, we were greeted with a huge modern city with a Vietnamese style of flare. In you mind, add hundreds of thousands of beeping motorbikes to a somewhat modern city that is splashed with primary colors on every surface.  It was brilliantly alive and exciting.  The colors popped.   This was not Las Vegas style, but more primary hues of color.  It was gorgeous.  And, were surprising.  The different cultural influences of this utopia seem to take on only best of each influential culture, leaving the harshest qualities behind. Forgotten entirely.  It is a place that is all it’s own.  The Vietnamese people have a knack for retaining their own thing.  It is definitely Vietnam.  Or at least, the Vietnam I had seen in my own mind.

The mixture of different cultural influence was on every street corner in Ho Chi Minh City. The architecture, coffee (unbelievable quality), the cakes, pastries and festive eating styles were a mixture of French and Chinese.  There were many other bits and pieces as well.  With the colors, heat, lights, and spin on so many cultures, you got the sense that these people are ready for a party to happen.   It could have broken out on any corner. And, I was ready to join right in.

Vietnamese smiles are to die for.  They were everywhere.  I completely believe that they have all undergone some sort of Disney training.  Smile!  Be open.  Be friendly.  Is this the happiest country on the planet?   They are a developing country according to the resources I have reviewed.  But, I strongly feel they have gotten to where they want to be…..a long time ago.   (Next, on the list needs to be their overwhelming garbage and water situation. They do have a severe sanitation problem.  It is absolutely everywhere.  It is in the water, on the roadsides.  Piles and piles of garbage.  It is behind homes, tossed into fields, and decaying.  Then, add the water.  Water is everywhere.  Water and garbage are not to be mixed.  Add the punch of humidity and tropical heat and you have a complicated situation. These piles may have gotten too large to be tackled.  Sanitation and environmental protection must be next on the list, or they will find themselves in a hole too deep to get back out of. )

On top of all of the other cultures and styles, you can spy a little bit of home.  US style.  In this section of the world, they seem to refer to the Americas as “Western” style.  Not the country western wear-your-boots-type of culture.  More of a softer more flexible take on Western culture.  They play familiar music, in some areas you can see our type of dress, and they have many of our brands of different products.  Oddly enough, people get very excited to learn we are from the US.  It seems there has been a love affair with the US and Vietnam going on for some time.  As our guide said, “Vietnam loves the US.   The French gave us bridges, the Chinese invested in our roads, the US bombed us and destroyed much. But, we do not care.  We love the US”.    (Well.  Okay.  You are entitled to your opinion, and I do appreciate the love and kindness.)

We saw their delight in so many ways.  Lincoln was a celebrity.  The younger you are and the more “western” you appear, the better.  He was an honored guest, without even knowing it.  I tried to explain the idea to him and completely failed.

While we were bike riding along the Mekong River, we saw families approaching the street to point and whisper about him.  He was on a child’s bike and very clearly “Western”.   It was something they had to see.  They called to one another and urged neighbors to come out to look (per our guide who did the translating for me when I asked what was happening).  One reason he became interesting may have been because he was a child of 8 years riding on his OWN  bike. A child on their dirt bike that fit his size was not typical. The children in Vietnam are either on the family motorbike with others, or they can be found on an adult bike.  They just use the pedals, not the seats, and get to where they are headed.  We did not see another child sized bike.

It is more typical to see families climb onto a single motorbike. It is more of an “all aboard” type of trip.  Get on.   We saw families of 4 piled onto 2 wheeled vehicles.  Sometimes, their bodies were hardly touching the bike.  An astonishing circus act.   Childrens’ highchairs would be placed where the adult should have put their feet. The older child was holding onto the back of an adult (an older child could be the ripe old age of 4).  You cannot help but notice the scars on the right calf of many people on the streets.  A red and angry circle scar on the right leg.  Yikes.  So many, many motorbike burns!    And…..there are no helmets to be found for the children.  One part of me guesses it is an expense they cannot take on.   A child’s helmet.  A growing child would require too many new ones.  Just as they would need far too many bikes over the years.  They can just ride on the family bike until their size is known. They just wait until the growing has stopped before they purchase such safety items.

Biking on the Mekong River is not for the faint of heart.  This is not a bike path.  It is a motorbike road connecting the homes and villages together.  Not wide enough to allow a car, everyone is on two wheels. So many of their streets will not accommodate a car.  They must have been built for bicycles.  So, 25 travelers, on cruiser bikes, and no helmets took to these “streets.”  It was very clear we did not belong in this village.  Motorbikes coming in either direction, honking to let you know where they are.  The road had portions of sand and sections of gravel.  And so many, many people were coming with them to get a look at this group of Western folks.  We were the parade.  Lincoln was the one they wanted more of.  A celebrity.

Lincoln was such a surprise to them (apparently, not many 8-year-old boys are touring the back roads of Southern Vietnam).  At one stop an older woman came right up to him.  Lincoln being unclear on what exactly was happening, and having a somewhat reasonable respect for older grandmotherly type creatures, allowed this small woman to drag him into a meat shop.  Away from our group.  I did catch sight of him being directed away from me. She had him by his arm.   I caught up pretty quickly.  “Grandma” had taken him into a meat shop.  Not the butcher type shop, but an open air shop with animals of all shapes and sizes hanging from hooks ready to be purchased for dinner.  They were skinned and ready for the grill. This woman may have just wanted to show Lincoln to a few of her friends in the shop.   I helped him to remove himself from the carnage.    He was pretty confused by the whole thing.  I tried to explain that they felt he was really unique and special.   I told him “grandma” wanted to show him to her friends. This was a little surprising to Lincoln, but as always, he had other things on his mind and did not seek any more information.  Phew!

When I asked our tour guide why “grandma” tried to remove Lincoln from his group he simply suggested that the Vietnamese are a “collective” community.  Meaning, the children belong to all of them.  They work together to raise their young in the village sense.  So, this woman may have felt that separating Lincoln from his group was not a big deal at all.  Hmmm.   Based on all the other amazing interactions we had with these people, I tend to agree with the explanation.  These people smile, laugh, and want to help. They are what community looks like.  I can say, what will remain in my mind is that meat shop.  Every type and style of meat were hanging from those hooks.  Think 1970”s horror film style.  For our animal lover, not cool.  And, had I stopped to take a look around, I would have probably passed out.  But, I had a child to “rescue.”

I can say, what will remain in my mind is that meat shop.  Every type and style of meat was hanging from those hooks on the ceiling.  Think 1950’s horror film style butcher.   And, had I stopped to take a look around, really focused, I would have probably passed out. But, I had a child to rescue.  I think that moment in time will be another flashbulb type moment that will end up popping into my mind at the least expected minute in the years to come.

Lincoln was also the star of the show when we went to the massage shop in Ho Chi Minh.  We were with a few of our ship friends, who arranged for the rubs.  I told the boys we were going for foot massages.  Whoops!  It was unknown to us we were getting the full deal.  For $13.00 each, we had 90 minutes of relaxation.  Each of ours was filled with manipulation, walking on backs, and flipping one into the air.  Now, the boys did not receive the manipulations….but they did get the full rub.

As we entered, we were shown to put on these little massage outfits.  The smaller sizes were orange shorts and orange shirts.  Like scrubs, but orange.  Imagine “Orange is the New Black” type of fit.  The boys did not comply with removing of their clothes but just pulled these styling outfits over their clothes.  Oompa-Loompa style.   I did nothing to correct their error as I was enjoying this show far too much.

We were ushered into a family massage room.  The boys had two ladies ready to get to work.  These magical women knew a few words in English.  Lincoln became “BeBe”.  (Like baby, but far softer sounding.)  For the next 90 minutes, we heard a constant stream of “Bebe relax.”  “Bebe!  Relax!”.  It was absolutely hysterical….and difficult to concentrate on my own relaxation.  Lincoln’s practitioner was so thrilled to have been assigned the little one.  She was pleased….and used her words to show this.  “Bebe.  Bebe”.   At one point I looked over, and Lincoln’s face was completely covered with strips of cucumber.  It will be another moment in time I will not forget.

After the massage, I asked the boys what they thought.   They seemed a bit overwhelmed by the entire experience.   A little confused and a little curious about just what happened.  I am convinced that they will learn to enjoy massage.  It can be an aquired taste.   I do believe family massage is unnecessary and distracting.  I will try solo massage experiences from now on.  I can say that we tried it…..we get a few points for that.

We did spend 3 days in the Mekong Delta enjoying the water and getting a better understanding of that culture.  As that topic would be another 10 pages of words, I will sum it up in a very brief way.   You have to see it, understand it, and visit yourself.  We could have spent months there.   The river is the highway.  Homes front the water, roads are not easy to come by.    River life is unique, gorgeous, and entirely dependent upon that mighty beast.  I would guess that river life can be a bit difficult as well.   Poverty is clearly the norm.  Families exist on less than 1.00 per day.  May there be some severe water cleaning process coming very soon, or these river people will lose the culture they have.  The water is filthy. And, not getting any cleaner.

After leaving port (heartbroken we would not spend more time in this magical place), Scott confessed to sneaking off to the massage shop. He knew to keep this a secret for a few days.  I had known he was going to hit the massage shop one evening, but I was not aware he had decided to jump on the back of some guy’s motorbike to get there.  This seasoned traveler had broken the hard rule of “only go in cars that are clearly marked taxi.”   He had jumped on the back of a motorbike of a person who was clearly not a taxi driver.  He paid this guy a small fee and spared himself the 10 minutes of walking.  He was pretty darn pleased by his ingenuity.  I was not amused.  He broke one of the best-known “rules” and absolutely loved the experience.  Traveling is about taking a risk or two….right?

I look forward to returning to Vietnam.  I am motivated to see Northern Vietnam. I have always wanted to see that area.   And, more Southern Vietnam as their beach resorts calls to me.  We also need to get over to that magical country, Cambodia.  This section of Southern Vietnam is my type of paradise.  Interesting.  Edgy.  Developing.  Warm.  Bright.

I can only hope that the people of Vietnam manage to recognize what they have and clean it up.  They have a long way to come if they plan to protect their waterways and wildlife.  It has been polluted for years.  Trash is piled everywhere and flows down the mighty Mekong to the ocean. The crocodiles are gone as they have killed and eaten them.   As one might, when life is hard, you use the “free” resources around you to exist.  Tomorrow will be another day….more daily struggles for so many of these inhabitants.  The average family makes no more than $5.00 US per day (which is right at the poverty mark).  Environmental protection can only come from outside sources at this point, or once the struggle to survive diminishes.

Hot business tip: Get into the sanitation business.  Vietnam needs you.

It is alive.  Gorgeous.  Warm.  And, I only visited Ho Chi Minh, The Mekong Delta, and a few river villages.

I will need to get to the north, to the south (beach), and hit Cambodia.  I am not done with Vietnam. The people made it shine.  The colors were bold.  I am sold.  And, told Scott I might want to move there.  Time will tell.