Travel Stories

December 24, 11pm, Vinh, Vietnam, by Xerxes Marduk

Part 2

While the bus was being searched on the Vietnam side of the border a Lao girl, who was also a passenger on the bus, offered me some food. It consisted of a ball of sticky rice and some meat jerky, yum. She was so nice she even offered me seconds, and water. One of the more talkative and relaxed Vietnamese border guards asked me a little bit later if I had had lunch. I think they were all interested in me, as I was the only white person to be seen for miles, and the kindness shown to me by some was really special. But not everybody I met on the bus had kindness and generosity foremost in their heart.

As the bus traveled deeper into Vietnam it stopped, or at least slowed, so that people could jump on and off numerous times. An hour into the country a group of five Vietnamese men got on the bus; they all smelled bad, like week old sweat and rotten dog combined. Their teeth were nothing but little yellow stumps. And their manners were atrocious; I was soon to find out they were road workers. All five smoked on the bus in blatant disregard to the no smoking signs, which up until now had been adhered to. They talked loudly from one end of the bus to the other. They put their feet up on the chair backs, spit out the window and on the floor, and harassed any cute females who were by themselves. They generally put everybody ill at ease. One plunked down next to me and I immediately decided to befriend him, because I have never known someone to do harm to someone whom they likes. So my goal for the next four or five hours became to get him to like me.

I gave him entertainment in my miming out various questions about himself, and telling him certain things about me. Such as: I paint, and I am a carpenter. That was stretching the truth but I was racking my brains trying to think of some vocational skill I had and that's all I came up with. He told me he made the road wider - by waving his hands about - and he put the drainage pipes under the road. I paid attention to him, smiling at the appropriate time and looking understanding and grave when seriousness was called for.

In a way this fellow next to me revolted me, but I was in his country and had to make the effort of friendship to him. I always want to befriend the unstable characters I meet. Not that I trusted this man, I would never turn my back on him, but its better to be a friend than to be neutral or antagonistic when in these situations.

I made a good will effort to be friendly, and in doing so communicated with him very basically. What I sensed was his life, and the lives of many of his ilk - the poorest in Vietnam - had been so hard, so sorrowful, that their pleasures could be summed up by entertainment and attention. I believe that in this the Romans knew how to keep the masses happy, entertain them with gladiator games. I'm not saying that he was simple, just that his perspective was different than everybody else's, just as everybody else's perspective would be different and equally hard for him to understand. Perspective is just one part of a person's perception of the world around them.

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