Tales From A Broad

My year of teaching English in Japan is up. Next mission: backpack Asia before going home to the U.S.A. Currently HOME!





Good Morning Vietnam!


The scariest and most painful journey of my life was getting from Luang Prabang, Laos to Hanoi, Vietnam. Going 90 MPH over a dirt road with pot-holes in a mini-van with worn down suspensions in the middle of the night isn't exactly a vacation. Alas, we made it alive, so I can't complain.

In less than one hour of arriving into Vietnam, I'd witnessed an angry woman scream and throw a bicycle at another angry woman; a restaurant-owner boast about his virtual immunity from the corrupt policemen and his drug trafficking across the Vietnam-Laos border; and the bus driver push my friends and me to the back of the bus with the suitcases, a [probably broken] computer tower and a bag of bananas.

Vietnam and I were already getting on a bad start.

What was it about the Vietnamese that pissed me off? In my 3 weeks in that country, I found a lot of them (at least the ones who deal with tourists) to be liars. It's sad that I have to write them off like that, but I found that to be true more times than not. A driver would assure me that he really was taking em to a market, only to take me to his brother's shop. We'd pay for a kayaking trip only to get taken to a restaurant-boat. Some may say that maybe it's a misunderstanding, a language barrier. I say that they know perfect English when they're selling something to foreigners. They tell us what we want to hear, no matter how false the reality really is.

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