Saigon, Kerouac-Style

After two days in KL, I met Emily, Sophie, and Linden in Saigon. We stayed in the backpacker area of Saigon, where there are an annoying number of western backpackers ambling around in flip-flops, board shorts, and t-shirts. There are a handful of bars there, which is good if you're looking for prostitutes (NO) or other westerners to chat with (double-NO). So we decided we'd hit the alleys and see what life was like for the locals. I just read On the Road by Jack Kerouac, so I have this writing style stuck on me. Here goes:

Linden and I were of the same mind, we both think it is wonderful and right to drink beer on the sidewalk, so we did this on the first night. The girls saw a tailor open, so they went to inquire about having a business suit made. Linden and I sat on tiny foot-high plastic chairs outside drinking 65-cent beers. Some guy went into the shop we were loitering in front of, and we heard some crazy music coming out of some cheap beat boombox, and the guy was singing! We couldn't understand a word but got a kick out of the distorted sound and off-key signing. Sing! Woo! This was great, drinking cheap beer on the sidewalk in Saigon, listening to some cat sing a song we couldn't understand. Two more beers! Make them Tiger this time!

We were out there drinking for about thirty minutes, so we were sure the girls were buying something. We needed to change the scene, so we walked off down the street. Here's a place, this one's called Oblivion! Yeah that place looks cool! Dig the beats coming from that place! We peek inside and instantly we are the focus of attention of half a dozen Vietnamese beauties, their eyes lighting up at the sight of us. Two of them come running out and grabbed us, come in, come in! Right away we knew what this place was, and we struggled to leave. "No, stay, stay, we want to talk to you! Please!" This one gone cutie had my arm and I had to wrest her off me by peeling one delicate finger from my wrist at a time. I turned and saw Linden, the girl on him was half his height, hugging him around the waist sideways and smiling sweetly. "Stay! Stay! Awwww!" Linden finally got out of the grip of his girl, and as she turned back to the bar she asked where we were from. "California? Oh, God, California!! Ahhh!!" She said it so jealously it was incredible. Everyone in the whole world knows California, they all want to be from there. Somehow that golden land is still what everyone dreams of, even surprisingly cute and sweet Vietnamese prostitutes.

Linden and I found a boring and respectable place to have another beer and wait for the girls. Some advertising executive struck up a conversation with us. I told him I was putting him out of business, I don't watch TV. Ah, no, there's still the Internet! Yes! His ads will play there, even if no one watches TV. The girls came back. We instantly forgot the ad exec and talked to the girls. I could see he was jealous; he was in his fifties and alone in a boring bar in Saigon, and we had two beauties with us, even though neither was a girlfriend of ours, he didn't know that. I liked that he was jealous. We got bored and then we went to some backpackers bars. Boring. We said goodnight to the girls and set off on our own.

We wandered through alleyways, digging the crazy alley life. Everything was kind of shoddy but in a comfortable way. You could see people sleeping through their windows. Some doors were open and you could see folks in their tiny ragged apartment eating noodles and caring for crying babes. These people were poor but there was no bitterness; this was their life and they were OK with it.

It was past midnight, and we heard music. We followed. We found a table with men sitting at it, musicians, monks, large floral arrangements. One man sitting at the table jumped to greet us, asking us to sit down in broken English. Again we sat down on tiny plastic chairs, now surrounded by some Vietnamese guys we found in the alley. They had a bucket full of beer, and I don't mean bottles of beer, I mean a great red bucket with beer sloshing around in it. They added large chunks of ice. There was one cup, the man who greeted us dipped it in and offered it to me. I held it up in thanks, and he said I must finish it quickly! I chugged it down. I passed the glass back, it was refilled and Linden did the same. "This man, his mother is died," the man said, pointing at another man sitting with us. We solemnly offered condolences. "FIVE people from the USA fly out for this funeral. FIVE from Los Angeles!" We nodded in agreement. The cup was passed around and around, we drank and drank. We tried to talk to them, but we we didn't know any Vietnamese and the guy's English was limited. It didn't matter though, we were a bunch of men sitting in an alley drinking beer and listening to music. Dig this! We're hanging out at a funeral in an alley in Saigon! You won't find that in the Lonely Planet! The man invited us to light incense for the dead mother. I took off my shoes to enter, he showed me how to light the incense. I burned my hand on another incense stick. It didn't matter. I bowed respectfully and placed the incense. I waited for Linden, he did the same. The man came up to me. "You know, FIVE people from the USA came for this!" He held up five fingers for emphasis. This guy cracked me up but I couldn't laugh. The music was done. The monks were eating their meal. I sensed it was time to go. We said our thanks and our condolences and took off into the alleys again...