-^-for posterity-^-

nothing struck me today as being interesting. i bought some waffle looking things from a street vendor. they are very sweet and very hard. they are cooked in a small waffle iron heated by a small stove that she carries around with her.

she carries her goods in two baskets on either end of a bamboo pole. the pole is placed on the shoulder. the baskets hang low to the ground, wide, short. one must take short steps to prevent bouncing. at least that’s as i understand it. i never was forced to carry one. they really look like old fashioned balances. place goods on one side and weights on the other. vendors carry everything in them: coconuts in coolers, small stoves and food to make supper, little waffle irons to cook the paper thin waffles that i ate today, dirt, small handicrafts and much more.

i’m beginning to make friends on the street. i pass taxi drivers waiting on their motorcycles every day. they have stopped asking me if i want a ride and only make some silly comment to me anymore. sometimes they check out what’s in the bags that i’m carrying. today they asked if they could have part of my waffles.

everything seems friendly as i walk around. people stare at me from motorcycles, busses and cars but it’s all routine now. no one seems to stare out of anger. it seems to be curiosity and ho chi minh city isn’t as bad as hanoi. the staring is much more obvious there. how strange will it be when i return home and am assimilated by our white suburbs. i’ll only be a pale face in the crowd. wonderfully comforting.

everyone is friendly except for around the french and american embassy. the embassies are right in the middle of town. right next to the mall. nike, kfc and the american embassy in the heart of saigon. who won?

outside the american embassy there are three armed guards at all times. sometimes four. they are vietnamese. at night they walk around with large thick vests on and metal helmets. they carry large guns. well polished wood and metal. their faces look younger than 20 but very proud. i would imagine that carrying a gun all day does wonders for ones self esteem.

i hate walking in front of their guns. they are normally slung across their backs pointing slightly towards the ground. if fired, they would hit a spot maybe 20 feet away from them. i always shudder as i pass them even though i try not to. i glance at them. it is pointing in the direction that i’m walking. i can feel when i cross the path of the gun. it would hit my leg. the flesh of my leg and tear through me. everyone’s happy but them.

i’ll continue to amble around this city until early december. the cracks on the sidewalks are becoming familiar. the dirt on my feet feels natural. the language is slowly forging its way in my head. someday i’ll know something. until then, there is much to see and say.