The Cu Chi tunnels were exactly as I expected. Scary, narrow, long, and dark. At first I thought the whole area was too developed and touristy. As we walked down the tunnel to get into the jungle area the walkway was machine made, wide, and well lit. We did see some openings in the ground where the jungle was in the 70’s but fairly unimpressive until I actually went into a tunnel of about 40 meters. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get in and then had to wind my way around walls clutching and grabbing to find my way out. How the Viet Kong made this with no equipment and then lived in the tunnels for years on end is truly amazing.
I only went to the first level of about 4 levels which each level getting narrower and more harrowing.. The Viet Cong had been building the tunnels by hand for about 10 years before the American War which went all the way from the 17th parallel around Danang to just outside Saigon. Each tunnel had two exits. One to the American landing zone area and one to the Saigon River. Some of the tunnels were never discovered by the Americans because of the jungle and the camouflage. Looking at some of the booby traps the Viet Cong created and hearing the rifle range a few hundred yards away took my imagination to l972 and the fear the GI’s must have felt in the jungle in the middle of the night.
Today, the Vietnamese tend to hate the French much more than the Americans surprisingly. They feel that the French exploited them when they were here, not letting them have an education and keeping them in low paying jobs. The Americans, on the other hand, who came in 1954 once the French moved out made sure the Vietnamese got an education, gave them jobs and so on, according to our tour guide. Unlike the French, they left the women alone and were good to the South. The north, on the other hand, naturally feels differently because they were bombed daily, with the first bomb being dropped at beautiful Halong Bay which we visited a few days ago.
We also visited the War Remnants Museum, a name to satisfy the American sensitivity. It was organized in a very interesting way. In the first gallery, there were excerpts from world journalists who had been killed but wrote or photographed some horrible scenes. The worst or most disturbing gallery was the one showing the effects of agent orange. There were two embryos in a bottle that were deformed and another picture that stays with me is an American soldier holding up a dismembered head of a Viet Cong. Many people left the gallery crying, which was, of course, the purpose of the exhibit.
Saigon, as Sylvia says, is pulsating. The traffic never stops, the horns are incessant, but surprising we can somehow cross the street. There are no stoplights but for some reason the motorcycles stop for you when you cross the street. We just tend to follow some Vietnamese family and wind our way through the traffic. I imagine traveling on the Mekong river tomorrow should be calmer, but who knows? I will let you know once I try it.
I only went to the first level of about 4 levels which each level getting narrower and more harrowing.. The Viet Cong had been building the tunnels by hand for about 10 years before the American War which went all the way from the 17th parallel around Danang to just outside Saigon. Each tunnel had two exits. One to the American landing zone area and one to the Saigon River. Some of the tunnels were never discovered by the Americans because of the jungle and the camouflage. Looking at some of the booby traps the Viet Cong created and hearing the rifle range a few hundred yards away took my imagination to l972 and the fear the GI’s must have felt in the jungle in the middle of the night.
Today, the Vietnamese tend to hate the French much more than the Americans surprisingly. They feel that the French exploited them when they were here, not letting them have an education and keeping them in low paying jobs. The Americans, on the other hand, who came in 1954 once the French moved out made sure the Vietnamese got an education, gave them jobs and so on, according to our tour guide. Unlike the French, they left the women alone and were good to the South. The north, on the other hand, naturally feels differently because they were bombed daily, with the first bomb being dropped at beautiful Halong Bay which we visited a few days ago.
We also visited the War Remnants Museum, a name to satisfy the American sensitivity. It was organized in a very interesting way. In the first gallery, there were excerpts from world journalists who had been killed but wrote or photographed some horrible scenes. The worst or most disturbing gallery was the one showing the effects of agent orange. There were two embryos in a bottle that were deformed and another picture that stays with me is an American soldier holding up a dismembered head of a Viet Cong. Many people left the gallery crying, which was, of course, the purpose of the exhibit.
Saigon, as Sylvia says, is pulsating. The traffic never stops, the horns are incessant, but surprising we can somehow cross the street. There are no stoplights but for some reason the motorcycles stop for you when you cross the street. We just tend to follow some Vietnamese family and wind our way through the traffic. I imagine traveling on the Mekong river tomorrow should be calmer, but who knows? I will let you know once I try it.
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