I had the entire day to enjoy my last day in Saigon, tour-free. I'd spent the last couple of days doing the guided tour thing, which I never do, but I knew I would never do it otherwise (more on that in another post.)
I wake up in my perfectly cool aircon room in my little guesthouse, which I adore. I walk through the narrow, busy pathway, full of people, and cross the main street to the "Sinh To" cart. I order a soursop fruit shake, always forgetting what soursop is or tastes like or if I like it (I just looked it up... it's the same as guanabana, the tropical fruit my Costa Rican HS boyfriend Oldemar used to drink) and an iced coffee. Cafe sua da, to be more specific, iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk. That and "thank you" are the only words I know after almost three weeks in Vietnam, and even though I can spell them, I can't even come close to pronouncing either.
I walk through the streets for a while, ending up again at the Central Market to pick up some souvenirs before I go. I buy dozens of little cellphone dangles, in the shape of Vietnamese woman traditionally dressed for my students- the girls mostly and some of the boys who are a little more secure in their manhood. Or womanhood. Whatever.
And then I hear it pound against the tin roof of the market... torrential downpour. Again. 3 ouf of 4 days of this, to spite me as I just proclaimed that I can't believe how little it has rained here. And I, again, without an umbrella. I know by now that waiting it out is fruitless... it can rain like this here easily for an hour or so. And it does.
I head to my favorite restaurant here, Thanh Binh, across the street from the market. Today, Sunday, it is practically empty. I finally eat something I'm not mad for. Rice cakes with crushed dried shrimp, croutons and little onion rings. I eat some of it, starting to develop a new appreciation for croutons.
Still pouring outside, and the persistent cramp I have in my left side pounds harder. My scoliosis doesn't let me walk for too long or for too many days, especially wearing flip-flops. I step into a massage place, and this is the best massage I've had yet. This little girl has the strongest arms, and although she's getting a hell of a lot more personal than I like, it's amazing. I actually felt so much better. By the time she was done, the rain stopped.
I walk back to my room and pass out for an hour.
I wake up and decide to do some more calculus at the local version of Starbucks (rant on that later as well.) I've strangely enjoyed the time I've spent catching up on what I've forgotten. I really can't spend another year playing daily catch up... I'm doing problems, reminding myself of what it's all about, taking copious notes on what it is I still have to figure out. Theory. I have no recollection of theory. I have no idea how to draw 3-D revolutions of figures around axes. Every time I finish a chapter I've photocopied, I throw it out. It's productive, and I get to lighten my load.
Except my load is increasing seemingly exponentiallly with all the stuff I'm buying. I've already bought a new, expandable bag. It's heavy as hell. But it's got wheels. I go to the tailor who's made me some more stuff. A blouse, a couple of dresses, a modern Ao Dai. It's gorgeous. She's this adorable older lady who did a better job than almost all of the tailors in Hoi An put together. She's lovely, and seems so proud of her work. I am thrilled to give her my money, and promise to post her information (which I've left back in the room.)
Off to the circus. Saigon circus, a 2 minute walk from my room. It costs $3, and the opening act is TERRIBLE. 20 people, dressed as soldiers, dancing. Badly. They're doing the whole unicycle thing, and they keep falling off. They're falling off more than they're staying on. I am excited by how bad this is going to be.
Except it's NOT bad. It's pretty damn good, actually. The production values are lacking a bit, and many of the acts aren't as elegant and a lot more corny than I'm used to, but otherwise fantastic. I'm surrounded by tons of children, and they are all laughing, not screaming, and well behaved. I wonder what's in the water that makes them so great. And cute. There's a little girl, no older than 3, who keeps trying to talk to me. He brother, every time the lights go on, asks me "how are you?" although he clearly has no idea how to proceed when confronted with a response. The clowns delight the children to no end, and the little girl finds this so funny, she slaps me on the arm, and smiles at me, as if to say "did you see that?"
I'm going to miss Saigon. I feel at home here. People are friendly. They keep helping me eat and cross the street. I miss the women, covered head-to-toes, literally, as most of them are riding around with full gloves, a conical hat, a mask, long sleeves and pants, so shield themselves from the sun. I am reminded that only white people wish to make themselves darker... the shelves of beauty aisles here are replete with whitening creams.) The motorbike guys are starting to recognize me, as well as the food stall people. One guy yells out "Hey, New York!" as he was the one guy I told where I'm from. Everyone calls me "madame."
It's not perfect... there's no way you can ride a bike for enjoyment. It's mayhem. There are no gyms. My only activity is walking and getting lost. And, there's this impossible tonal language I can't conquer.
I'm sad to leave tomorrow.
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