We had great expectations before the trip to Vietnam. Our imagination had been shaped by Catherine Deneuve’s “Indochina”, by “The Scent of Green papaya” or “The quiet American”.
We expected some sort of sedate tropical backwater, where the aromas of pho bo and fresh French baguettes mix intriguingly and where erotic Asian girls glide by, on bicycles, dressed in ao-dais.
Well, Vietnam has all that, but like in the Radio Yerevan jokes: bicycles are motorcycles – about 6 million in Saigon only. Which makes for an altogether different eroticism.
Vietnam today is a post/ still /not-quite communist/capitalist wild-East, where everybody’s out to get you – or at least to get your money.
Everything’s fast, loud, pragmatic, cheap, dizzying or in construction – a bit like I imagine New York of a century ago. Certainly full of vitality, but not really a vacation paradise – at least not after three weeks of Bhutan.
We expected some sort of sedate tropical backwater, where the aromas of pho bo and fresh French baguettes mix intriguingly and where erotic Asian girls glide by, on bicycles, dressed in ao-dais.
Well, Vietnam has all that, but like in the Radio Yerevan jokes: bicycles are motorcycles – about 6 million in Saigon only. Which makes for an altogether different eroticism.
Vietnam today is a post/ still /not-quite communist/capitalist wild-East, where everybody’s out to get you – or at least to get your money.
Everything’s fast, loud, pragmatic, cheap, dizzying or in construction – a bit like I imagine New York of a century ago. Certainly full of vitality, but not really a vacation paradise – at least not after three weeks of Bhutan.
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