Viet Nam 1993 – a New Beginning: An American Professor’S Journal of Discovery, Exploration, and Introspection

By Louis Grivetti

Viet Nam 1993 is the journal of an American University Professor who traveled to Viet Nam to explore opportunities and potential for agricultural and nutritional research. The journal describes interactions with Vietnamese officials and citizens, and presents vivid descriptions of the land and people of Viet Nam. During his journey the author traveled the length and breadth of the country from the ethereal beauty of Ha Long Bay to the southern reaches of the Me Kong Delta. Viet Nam 1993 documents through descriptions and photographs what the country and people of Viet Nam were like before diplomatic relations were established with the United States.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493187614

Louis Grivetti

Louis Grivetti is Professor Emeritus of Nutrition, University of California, Davis. He worked at Siwa and Qara Oases during 1965-1966. The Song of Siwa was conceived as an epic tribute to honor the residents of these remote desert localities. http://nutrition.ucdavis.edu/faculty/grivetti/index.cfm Alison Smith is a multidisciplinary visual artist, singer, and performer. Inspired by memory, story and place, she uses a variety of media and materials to create highly detailed, multi-sensory narrative performances. She lives and works in Northern California.

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Copyright © 2014 by Louis Grivetti.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905486

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4931-8760-7

eBook 978-1-4931-8761-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 05/14/2014

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Preface

Journal Entries

Chapter 1: Arrival In Viet Nam And Initial Impressions

Chapter 2: Ha Noi (Continued)

Group 1: Arrival And Ha Noi

Chapter 3: Ha Noi (Continued)

Chapter 4: Red River Delta: Ha Noi To Ha Long Bay

Group 2: Journey To Ha Long Bay

Chapter 5: Red River Delta: Ha Long Bay To Ha Noi

Chapter 6: Highway 1: Ha Noi To Vinh

Group 3: Highway

Chapter 7: Highway : Vinh To Hué

Chapter 8: Highway : Hué To Quang Ngai

Group 4: War-Related Damage

Chapter 9: Highway : Quang Ngai To Nha Trang

Chapter 10: Highway : Nha Trang To Ho Chi Minh City

Group 5: Song My/My Lai 4

Chapter 11: Ho Chi Minh City

Chapter 12: Ho Chi Minh City (Continued)

Group 6: Ho Chi Minh City (Ex. Sai Gon)

Chapter 13: Me Kong Delta: Ho Chi Minh City To Can Tho

Chapter 14: Me Kong Delta: Can Tho To Ho Chi Minh City

Group 7: Can Tho

Chapter 15: Ho Chi Minh City (Continued)

Chapter 16: Ho Chi Minh City To The Tunnels Of Ben Duoc

Group 8: Vietnamese Of All Ages

Chapter 17: Ho Chi Minh City To The Vung Tau Peninsula

Chapter 18: Vung Tau Peninsula To Ho Chi Minh City

Group 9: Street Scenes

Chapter 19: Ho Chi Minh City (Continued) And Ha Noi

Chapter 20: Ha Noi (Continued)

Group 10: Religion And Cultural Celebrations

Chapter 21: Ha Noi (Continued)

Chapter 22: Ha Noi: Departure And Final Impressions

Group 11: Politics, Health, And Food

Chapter 23: Viet Nam: Discovery, Opportunity, And Synthesis (Text Dated August, 1993)

Chapter 24: Coda: A Twenty Year Perspective, 2013

Group 12: Uc-Davis Activities In Viet Nam (1993-2014)

Appendices

Appendix 1

Appendix 2

Appendix 3

Appendix 4

Appendix 5

Appendix 6

Appendix 7

Glossary

Tables

Table 1

Dan Chu Hotel Menu (April, 1993): Items And Prices In Vietnamese Dong And American Dollars

Table 2

Books And Statistical Packages Donated By Uc-Davis To Libraries At Niapp And Ha Noi University, 1995

Table 3

Education Materials Received From Viet Nam Under The Cooperative Agreement (1994)

DEDICATION

To My Father

Rex Michael Grivetti

9/03/1913 - 11/15/2000

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Rex Grivetti

You approved my reasons for travel to Viet Nam . . .

You helped finance my initial journey . . .

You lived to see the initial results . . .

Thank you for your love, support, and understanding.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author wishes to thank…

UC-Davis Administration Officials who provided advice and counsel and whose support led to the initial Memorandum of Understanding with NIAPP and the University of Ha Noi: Dr. Lawrence Vanderhoef (Chancellor); Dr. Peter Dale, (Acting Vice Provost, Academic Programs and Dean, Undergraduate Studies); and Dr. Barbara Schneeman, Dean, College of Agriculture and Environmental Sciences).

Members of the initial Viet Nam Advisory Board at UC-Davis founded in 1993 after the author’s exploratory visit to Viet Nam: Dr. Barbara Schneeman (Chair); Dr. William Chancellor (Department of Engineering); Dr. Peter Dale (Acting Vice Provost); Dr. George Halpern (UC-Davis School of Medicine); Dr. Charles Hess (Former Dean, College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences); Dr. Carl Keen (Department of Nutrition); Dr. Nguyen Kien (UC-Davis School of Medicine); Dr. Robert Rucker (Department of Nutrition); Dr. Marlyn Shelton (Department of Geography), and Dr. James Smith (UC-Davis School of Law).

Members of the Northern California Viet Nam Consortium founded in 1993 after the author’s exploratory visit to Viet Nam: Dr. Khe Ba Do (Dean of Science and Allied Health, American River College); Dr. Chuong H. Chung (California State University, San Francisco, Department of Asian Studies); Dr. Eric Crystal (University of California, Berkeley, Center for Southeast Asia Studies); Dr. Harry Harris (California State University, Fresno, Department of Business Management); Dr. Nguyen Van Hanh (California State Environmental Protection Agency); Dr. Nguyen Hoang (Bach Viet Foundation, Sacramento); Dr. Kien Nguyen (University of California, Davis, School of Medicine); Dr. Robert Reed (University of California, Berkeley, Center for Southeast Asia Studies); Dr. Royce Shaw (California State University, Sacramento, Director of International Programs); Mr. Bradley Williams (California State Environmental Protection Agency); and Dr. Ngo Dinh Thinh (California State University, Sacramento, Department of Engineering).

Colleagues in Vietnam: NIAPP, Ha Noi University especially Dr. Tran An Phong; Dr. Nguyen Quang My, and Mr. Vu Cong Lan.

To the countless Vietnamese citizens who welcomed me and provided gracious hospitality during my stay in Viet Nam;

Mediawork Staff (Academic Technology Services) at UC-Davis, especially: Mr. Steve Oerding, Senior Artist/Supervisor, and Mr. T.J. Ushing, for assistance with map production and photographs that appear in this volume.

And special thanks to the Xlibris team members who provided assistance and advice during the publishing and post-publishing process: Ralph Cavero (Cover Design); Joshua David Enriquez (Interior Design); Maria Rosario Legarde (Production Specialist), Sarah Turner (Submissions Representative); Stephen Verona (Senior Publishing Consultant); Amy Scott (Author Service Representative)

Louis Grivetti

Davis, California

2014

PREFACE

The following narrative of activities, events, and observations was recorded in my daily journal during a 22-day journey to the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam during the period April 22nd - May 12th, 1993. I undertook this trip as a private citizen and as a representative of the University of California, Davis (UC-Davis). At the time I was a professor in two departments—geography and nutrition.

My objectives for traveling to Viet Nam were both professional and personal. I wanted to explore potential opportunities for research and scientific collaboration between Vietnamese scientists and colleagues at my campus. At the same time I wanted to visit Viet Nam and examine firsthand the cultural and physical landscapes produced by the American-Vietnamese War. I also wanted to take part, to the extent possible, in the process of reconciliation as our two countries moved slowly towards economic and political recognition.

Funding for the journey was provided through personal savings and a gift from my father who supported my decision to visit Viet Nam.

My journey to Viet Nam lasted three short weeks but more than two years were spent in planning and securing travel permissions.

The United States government removed Viet Nam from the restricted travel list for American citizens in December, 1991. After the announcement I discussed potential field work ideas with one of my senior graduate students, Garrett Smith. During subsequent weeks Garrett and I developed five potential research topics that we believed might interest colleagues in Viet Nam. The unifying purpose of these activities was to determine how the American-Vietnamese War had impacted agricultural production, food supply, and ultimately the nutrition and health status of Vietnamese citizens:

1. Evaluate negative impacts of the war on food production and civilian access to food;

2. Compare Vietnamese agricultural practices before and during the war with post-war activities;

3. Document the impact of defoliant use on farming practices, crop production, and local and regional food supplies;

4. Investigate how landscapes produced by war, especially unexploded ordinance, impacted the daily lives and economic livelihoods of Vietnamese farmers;

5. Determine the economic impacts of new post-war road systems on improving distribution and marketing of Vietnamese agricultural produce.

In December, 1991, I submitted requests for field work status to the Vietnamese mission, United Nations, New York, and to the Vietnamese Embassy, Ottawa, Canada. This initial correspondence resulted in a favorable exchange of letters with Vietnamese diplomatic officials who replied that our request had been received with interest and forwarded to appropriate governmental agencies in Ha Noi.

On February 10th, 1992, I received an unsolicited letter from Viet Nam (dated November 12th, 1991). The letter was from Dr. Nguyen Quang My, Professor of Geography, at Ha Noi National University. I subsequently learned that Dr. My had sent copies of the same letter to a suite of American universities requesting assistance from American geographers, especially colleagues with research interests in cartography, erosion and river hydrology, and tourism related to exploration of limestone cave sites in Viet Nam.

I replied to Dr. My that my academic training also had been in geography with additional courses in food science and nutrition. I informed him that I had not previously conducted mapping exercises; was not trained in hydrology/soil erosion issues; and had no knowledge of tourism as a geographical theme. I asked Dr. My, in turn, whether or not he and his colleagues might be interested in research on the post-war period, especially the interplay between agriculture and food production, landscape change, and nutrition and health? I forwarded to him the potential research themes that Garrett Smith and I previously had identified and concluded with the statement that we at UC-Davis wanted to become part of a process of moving forward during this new era of potential economic and political normalization between Viet Nam and the United States.

After waiting for six months and receiving no reply I began to lose interest. Because of the delay Garrett Smith had turned his geographical research interests to opportunities in West Africa and abandoned the idea of working in Viet Nam. During this period I resumed teaching and research activities outside of the geographical region of Southeast Asia.

On August 10th, 1992, I received an unexpected fax from Viet Nam. The author of this message was not Dr. My, but his colleague, Dr. Tran An Phong, Director of the Vietnamese National Institute for Agricultural Planning and Projection (NIAPP). Dr. Phong related that he had received my response to Dr. My with interest. He especially was attracted to the theme whereby we might compare/contrast Vietnamese farming practices and food-related issues before, during, and after the war years. Dr. Phong noted the importance of conducting research that blended agriculture and sustainable development. In his capacity as Director of NIAPP, and as a representative of the Ministry of Agriculture, Dr. Phong issued me a formal invitation to visit Viet Nam for the purpose of discussing topics of mutual interest. Five days later on August 15th I received a formal invitation from Dr. My to visit Viet Nam on behalf of the Department of Geography and Geology at Ha Noi University.

While both Dr. Phong’s and Dr. My’s messages of invitation were positive, eight amonths would elapse before agreement was reached and my journey to Viet Nam became a reality. Patience, perseverance, and mutual accommodation were the keys to our success in reaching agreement as final approvals had to be reviewed and secured from the Vietnamese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Agriculture, and travel permits issued through the Ministry of Interior.

*     *     *

The pages that follow provide details of my initial visit to Viet Nam. Recorded herein are daily descriptions of my activities along with impressions, observations, and interpretations. The narrative passages in this journal reflect events as well as my personal feelings. I was touched emotionally each day in Viet Nam as thoughts returned and flooded me with images and memories merely by seeing road signs—50 kilometers to Da Nang; 60 kilometers to Sai Gon; or 100 kilometers to Hai Phong. I was touched deeply when I saw T-shirts for sale with the logo Good Morning Vietnam; when I heard American music from the 1960’s played over hotel muzac systems; when I stood before memorial stone tablets at My Lai; when I felt the back-draft of motorbikes speeding by; and when I smelled sunrise while deep in the Me Kong Delta.

At the time of my 1993 journey the United States of America and the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam did not have diplomatic relations. While travel restrictions by Americans to Viet Nam had been lifted by President Clinton, the Economic-Trade Embargo imposed by the United States remained in effect. Despite these political and economic constraints my hosts greeted me with kind hospitality and I was made to feel comfortable and at ease throughout my visit. I was welcomed with personal kindness by the Vietnamese officials, scientists, students, and citizens that I met. Hands of friendship and wishes for better relations between our two countries were extended to me by officials and members of the general population that I met.

Although the war was over, scars remained in 1993…

Some of the landscapes described in these pages have continued to remain lethal, whether from unexploded ordnance or from lingering toxic effects of herbicides and defoliant agents. Some of the citizens described in this journal exhibited the physical and mental effects of the war that ravaged their country. Other passages, however, describe uplifting experiences and document how Vietnamese citizens that I met had struggled to overcome the war years and had worked to improve their country.

The following narrative will not reveal a sense of what the Viet Nam War was like to Americans who served overseas during the Vietnamese-American War. Other publications cover these issues. The present account, however, will provide the reader with insights and images of what war was like to the Vietnamese, and how process of healing between our two countries—once former enemies—had begun.

If these images are not powerful enough to move the reader, then the fault is mine and lies with my limited ability to describe them clearly.

Louis E. Grivetti

Davis, California,

2014

VIET NAM

Viet%20Nam%20Map.jpg

Viet Nam

Legend:

1. Buon Ma Thuot

2. Cam Ranh

3. Can Tho

4. Cu Chi

5. Da Lat

6. Da Nang

7. Dien Bien Phu

8. DNZ (Former)

9. Ha Long Bay

10. Hai Phong

11. Hué

12. Kon Tum

13. Me Kong Delta

14. My Lai

15. My Tho

16. Nha Trang

17. Plei Ku

18. Quang Ngai

19. Quang Tri

20. Vinh

21. Vung Tau

JOURNAL ENTRIES

CHAPTER 1

ARRIVAL IN VIET NAM

AND INITIAL IMPRESSIONS

Wednesday, April 21st, 1993.

I begin this journal with the notation that I am now sitting and writing at a dinner table in the stark, bare dining room of the Dan Chu Hotel, located at 29 Trang Tien Street in the central business district of Ha Noi, capital of the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam. The dining room is hot, humid. A waitress wearing a translator’s badge to demonstrate her competency in English has just served me my first Vietnamese beer, a Sai Gon 333, locally called Sai Gon ba-ba-ba (ba = 3). After writing notes for an hour, I ordered another beer, then selected dinner from the hotel restaurant menu (Table 1) and chose fried rice with egg, and fried pork.

Since first impressions are reported to be the most valuable and vivid for cross-cultural comparison. I begin with three basic impressions and observations of Ha Noi.

First, the architecture and feeling of the capital seem familiar to me, although I have not been here before. The buildings in Ha Noi resemble the French-English colonial construction style that I have seen throughout Egyptian delta towns like Mansura and Tanta, or within Egyptian Nile valley cities like Asyut and Qena, or expressed by buildings in the older quarters of Alexandria and Cairo, all cities where I have worked previously.

But while the former French colonial presence is undeniable in Ha Noi, two additional factors immediately are obvious to the first-time visitor in 1993: transportation and medical observations.

Traffic: There are very few cars in downtown Ha Noi. But while there is a general absence of automobiles and trucks, the city is congested with bicycles and motorbikes that dominate the streets.

Nutrition: While there is abundant food available for purchase in the city, as evidenced by numerous restaurants, shops, and produce vendors, the citizens of Ha Noi are remarkably thin. In fact they are exceptionally lean. Many children and young adults I observed this afternoon also exhibited stunted growth. During my two hour walk through central Ha Noi I passed by several thousand people: none were overweight and none were obese.

I left Bangkok this morning at 11:00 A.M. and flew to Viet Nam aboard Thai Airlines. The flight was uneventful. For reasons not announced by the pilot we circled the Ha Noi international airport not once, but twice, and then landed on our second approach. Both times our plane descended then swung out in a broad arc across the Red River delta before landing. I looked for but did not see bomb craters dotting the Vietnamese landscape near the airport. What I saw below me were agricultural fields: rice and more rice.

Our plane landed without incident. As we disembarked an expensive car drove out onto the tarmac and approached the plane. It was not for me (despite what my ego wished) but had been sent to pick up a diplomatic passenger. We lesser status passengers watched as the individual was escorted with pomp into the waiting car. The rest of us climbed aboard the airport bus and rode to the arrival terminal where we walked past a single flagpole that atop flew the Vietnamese flag, a gold five pointed star on a red field. The sign above the terminal entrance was grey with only one word: Ha Noi.

The arrival terminal had few amenities. Ten or twelve long narrow tables thickly varnished dominated the center of the room. There were no chairs. The purpose of the long tables was unclear to me; there were slots possibly for pencils, pens, forms and documents, but all were empty. Passengers grouped themselves into six long lines that snaked between the tables; one of the lines was identified for diplomats and officials, the undesignated remainder were for the rest of us.

After 35-40 minutes I reached the counter, presented my travel documents to the Vietnamese immigration officials, and waited. After a cursory look at my passport and currency declaration form, the officers flashed smiles, welcomed me, and I was waved through immigration into the customs inspection room.

Once inside we searched for our respective bags. Ha Noi International Airport had no luggage conveyor belt system. All parcels and luggage had been carried into the room by airport personnel and then tossed into a massive pile along one wall. Many passengers groused as they milled about searching for their respective belongings. I was lucky and spotted mine relatively quickly.

I obtained a luggage cart, approached a female customs officer, and stood in her line. My turn came in less than five minutes. She asked for my passport and currency declaration form, then smiled and waved me through without inspection.

Having passed through immigration and customs control I was approached by several taxi drivers eager to secure a fare into Ha Noi. To each I smiled and shook my head no; they in turn smiled back. I expected to be met and scanned the crowd for a friendly face and sign. There were many people crowded outside the terminal and I searched for my name—there it was on a cardboard sign: Grivetti—NIAPP.

The sign was held by Mr. Vu Cong Lan, Engineer, and Technical Assistant to Dr. Tran An Phong, Director of NIAPP, the Vietnamese National Institute of Agricultural Planning and Projection. Mr. Lan spoke English well and had an excellent vocabulary of essential and technical terms. I would learn later that Lan spoke three languages: he had been schooled in Russian as a second language and had learned English at night school in Ha Noi that he attended after his work-day at NIAPP had been completed.

Lan helped me with my bags as we crossed the airport parking lot. He introduced me to Mr. Kung Kim Kien, NIAPP driver, who also welcomed me to Viet Nam. Together, we loaded the luggage into the back of the institute car, and then set off for the capital some twenty miles to the southwest.

We chatted and learned the basic facts about each other during the forty-five minute drive from the airport into central Ha Noi. Lan told me how pleased he was when chosen to be my translator, and said that he hoped I would be patient with him since his English was modest. I smiled and replied that I understood him very well, and that it was nice to have a translator, since I couldn’t speak Vietnamese, Russian, or French. I told Lan that I knew we would get along well together. I especially thanked him for meeting me at the airport, and said that it always was nice to see a friendly face and smile when visiting a country for the first time.

The airport highway to Ha Noi was narrow, badly pot-holed in many sections, and rough and undulating in other sections. Throughout much of the distance between the airport and Ha Noi the road traversed the top of dikes that protected the agricultural fields, communes, and settlements from annual flooding by the Red River. The road and both shoulders were crowded with pedestrians, motorbikes and bicycles with only an occasional car or truck.

The rice paddy landscapes off to either side of the road were beautiful. The color during the early afternoon haze was emerald green, a hue and intensity that I had not before experienced. Off in the fields away from the highway were numerous grey-black water buffalo. Farmers working the rice fields were dressed simply. Most wore conical rattan hats pointed at the top, not flat like the farmers wore in Thailand.

We passed billboards that advertised agricultural and electronic products, all Asian, Australian, or European firms. No American goods were advertised because of the Economic Trade Embargo imposed by the United States. Small homes, many less than 20' x 20' square, and roadside businesses dominated the roadside as we neared Ha Noi. These structures were built primarily of cement blocks or baked bricks. Some of the buildings had thatched roofs, others were tiled. The construction style of these roadside houses and businesses reminded me of those seen in the Egyptian delta. Older houses along the airport highway presented the appearance of decay and most needed paint. In some places the houses and buildings had been destroyed, as evidenced by broken walls, but it was impossible to determine whether this damage was war-related.

We passed hundreds, if not thousands, of bicycles ridden by children, adults, and the elderly. We honked and wove our way through crowds of pedestrians and bicyclists. We crossed several recently built bridges, and off to both left and right sides we could see the abutments of older bridges destroyed either by French or American forces during the wars of this century. Few buildings along the airport highway were taller than two stories. New construction, however, was evident everywhere as masons and carpenters were hard at work.

The driver, Mr. Kien, constantly honked to alert pedestrians, cyclists, and the few cars and trucks that we were coming, and that he planned to overtake and pass along the narrow, straight stretches of highway. Kien was a careful driver who knew exactly the width and length dimensions of the car. He judged the speed and distance of oncoming motorbike traffic far better than I could have done. I would have been a very timid driver here. He accelerated and passed even though bicyclists or motorbikes were directly in our path. These riders, (fortunately for them and for us) always pulled over off along the shoulder of the highway at the last minute. I felt unsettled as if we were playing chicken, but then slowly grew more comfortable with Kien’s driving style.

We crossed a tributary of the Red River and drove along a temporary, narrow steel bridge. Off to the north were damaged bridge abutments, stark reminders of the effects of allied bombing during the Viet Nam War.

The relative density of business and home construction increased along the airport highway as we approached the capital. The landscape here reminded me of the northern Cairo suburb of Shubra because of the increased housing density and construction types. The obvious differences between Shubra and this landscape, however, were dress styles and street signs: rattan hats and pants and blouses, not flowing gallabaya robes, and of course signs in Vietnamese not Arabic.

We passed through a major intersection traffic circle with a sign that directed traffic one way to Ha Noi and another way to Hai Phong. Just seeing and reading the letters—Ha Noi and Hai Phong—abruptly reminded me of the war, especially events associated with the Gulf of Tonkin incident 1964, the Christmas bombings during 1971, American POW’s kept in the Ha Noi Hilton, and the mining of Hai Phong harbor. In the center of traffic circle was a memorial commemorating Vietnamese victory over the Americans.

This was no slide show or armchair travelogue: I was here—actually in Viet Nam—and the experience was real!

Lan smiled, looked over at me, drew my attention to the sign, and spoke:

We will travel to Hai Phong in two days and from there we will visit Ha Long Bay, which you will enjoy.

I replied, Isn’t Ha Long Bay called in English the ‘Bay of the Dragon’?

Yes, you must know it.

I smiled and said, Everyone knows Ha Long Bay. It is one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Lan smiled too.

The narrow road continued along the crest of an enormous flood prevention dike. We turned off the dike onto the flat Red River delta. We passed through a police check-point where Mr. Kien turned in a ticket to a toll booth attendant. Given the width and quality of the highway we had used I scarcely believed we had been on a toll road.

Once through the Ha Noi Airport check-point the highway widened into four lanes as the traffic became more congested with thousands of bicycles and motorbikes; here and there were more cars and trucks. Billboards and smaller advertising signs dominated the roadside. We passed through a long strip development area where hundreds of small service shops and stores were open for business: clothing, tire and bicycle repair, soup and noodles, fresh produce, and businesses for agricultural supplies, glaziers, hardware, spare parts, automobile and truck parts, and countless other needs.

We neared Ha Noi and drove up and a top another enormous dike, then onto a steel girder bridge that spanned the Red River. The dikes protecting the capital here were massive, and thick. I recalled the American decision not to bomb the Red River dikes and wondered what would have happened if they had been breached? The Red River, from what I could see looking down from the bridge, was not red, but a dark brown because of the heavy load of silt eroded from upstream. The bridge was crowded with heavy truck and motorcycle traffic, bicycles, and pedestrians. We reached the west side and immediately descended into the noisy, crowded, congested, lively northeastern district of the Vietnamese capital.

Ha Noi—up close and personal—had the architectural appearance and drab color of the Attaba district of modern Cairo, Egypt. The buildings in this northeastern suburb were a mixture of well-kept and maintained structures, interspersed side by side with others seriously dilapidated, buildings that had not been painted or seen upkeep for decades. The overall first impression was one of sad neglect. Many buildings exhibited the colors of urban decay: beige, iron rust brown, greasy-grey-black, and off-tan.

But if the initial architectural impression was poor, the human atmosphere was impressive and lively with hundreds of pedestrians milling through the streets, mingling with small livestock. All this energy reflected the interesting sights and visions of urban craftsmen hammering sheet metal, the sparks and arcs of welders. Above the hammering and noise one could hear the language and calls of vegetable and fruit vendors and the thousand other sounds of daily urban life.

We drove through a congested mass of pedestrians, motorbikes, and bicyclists. Mr. Kien honked and honked, passed rapidly, then wove successfully through the traffic. Immediately ahead of us loomed the Museum of Vietnamese History, then we turned right on a broad street and passed along the west side of the stately French-style Opera House, then turned down Trang Tien Street. Here, Mr. Kien unexpectedly changed lanes and drove on the wrong side of the road—then guided the car straight ahead through oncoming bicycles so he could park curb-side—pointing the wrong direction—in front of the Dan Chu Hotel, a facility that would be my home for the next several days.

Impressions: If one keeps a journal, one should be truthful and frank. The truth, however, can be told tactfully. Therefore, I will record truthfully—but tactfully. The exterior of the Dan Chu Hotel was modest and did not project the image of elegance. I suspected, in fact, that the Dan Chu Hotel had not been elegant even during French colonial administration. The Dan Chu Hotel evidenced a European-period façade, built in the French style, one that had seen better days. Still, Viet Nam guide books listed the Dan Chu as an up-scale hotel in central Ha Noi. Perhaps these authors were driven more by tact than truthfulness.

But the external face of humans, as well as hotels, can be deceiving. The assistance, kindness, and smiles that I received from the reception desk personnel more than made up for any apprehension about checking into the Dan Chu. The reception staff members were helpful, pleasant, and efficient; they welcomed me in English and charmed me immediately because they addressed me by my name as I walked in—even before I had presented my passport. Clearly, I had been expected and they had been briefed—most likely by Lan.

Dr. Grivetti, we welcome you to the Dan Chu. Did you have a nice flight?

Yes.

We are pleased that you will be staying with us. How would you like to pay your bill?

The registration form says here that you accept Visa Cards, isn’t that correct?

It is so, Dr. Grivetti.

I handed the receptionist my Gold Visa Card who took it gladly. After a brief inspection, however, he returned it to me and spoke:

Dr. Grivetti, it is true that we accept Visa Cards. But sorry, yours is an American Visa Card. It cannot be used here, you know, because of the American Trade Embargo against Viet Nam. You understand, of course? We will gladly accept a non-American Visa Card. Perhaps you have one with you?

No. I will pay in dollars.

Thank you, Dr. Grivetti. Dollars will be fine. You understand the problem, don’t you.

But of course.

I made a mental note that should the American Trade Embargo still be intact during my next trip, then I should have in my possession a Visa Card issued by a Canadian or Hong Kong bank.

The lobby of the Dan Chu Hotel was small and dimly illuminated. A tattered rug lined the staircase leading to the second floor. Off to the right of the reception desk there was a gift shop that exhibited a diversity of Vietnamese handicrafts: calendars, Chinese-style silver and jade objects, dolls, lacquer-ware boxes, post cards, puppets, sandalwood carvings, painted scrolls, and numerous albums of representative Vietnamese stamps and coins. Opposite the reservation desk was a ventilated alcove with windows and shutters that opened onto the sidewalk. The alcove was furnished with soft leatherette chairs separated by long glass tables that allowed visitors and guests to relax and hold discussions.

According to the receptionist rooms at the Dan Chu ranged in designation from Luxury to Economy, with corresponding sliding rates from $80.00/night down to $40.00/night. These quotations, however, were the rates charged to foreigners; different prices were charged to Vietnamese citizens. This was my first introduction to the mysterious and almost unfathomable two-tier monetary system used in Viet Nam. A further technicality required that all foreigners pay for their rooms in U.S. dollars, not Vietnamese currency; but meals, beverages in the room, and laundry could be paid in Vietnamese currency [but one had to know this in advance, otherwise it was calculated also in dollars].

What type of room would you like, Dr. Grivetti? Perhaps Luxury?

Economy would be fine.

But of course.

I was assigned room number 117 and shown upstairs by a male bellhop and a female hotel assistant. We went upstairs and entered the room but it was not presentable. The room had not been made up and the linen and towels not been changed. The bellhop, dressed in a white uniform, immediately saw the problem and seemed embarrassed. He looked at me, held up his hand and pointed his palm at me—which I assumed meant wait. He quickly walked downstairs to the reception desk and returned with a different room key and I was re-assigned room number 115 next door.

Economy indeed! I will be truthful and tactful and write here that room 115 was modest by any accommodation standard. There were two small, hard, wooden slat beds with mosquito netting. Most of the floor was wooden and warped, with a curious transition from wood to cracked flowery tile. The room had a refrigerator but it was unplugged and not in operating condition. The ceiling fan did not work.

On the plus side the air conditioning unit was strong and powerful and the small color television set to operate on two channels provided clear reception.

The bathroom had a European-style commode and a Vietnamese-style shower, whereby bathers stood underneath the simple shower head, washed, and the water splashed onto the tile bathroom floor and ultimately drained. Above the bathroom sink was a suitable mirror. Below the mirror was a metal shelf with complementary soap, two toothbrush-toothpaste kits, and two clean combs sealed in plastic wrap. The sink had a workable stopper. Plastic sandals for patrons to wear in the shower had been placed beneath each bed.

A small, low wooden table against the wall opposite the beds doubled as a mini-bar. On the table were two 500 cc plastic bottles of water, two cans of Coca Cola (based upon printing on the can they had been imported from Indonesia thus circumventing the Trade Embargo), and two Heineken beers all at room temperature. The beverage prices ranged from U.S. $0.80 for a can of Coke to U.S. $1.25 for the beer. Also included in the mini-bar was a packet labeled lotus-scent tea, to be mixed/steeped [?] with tepid but boiled [?] water provided in a large Chinese-style thermos jug set on the floor. Completing the furniture inventory was a modest desk with an adequate lamp, a small night stand, telephone, and a wooden doulab or clothes cabinet.

The door to the room was fit with panes of opaque glass. The lock was simple, but the latch could not be secured.

I started to unpack my luggage but was stymied because of the tight non-breakable straps that had been machine-placed around my bags when I had passed through Thai Airline security. Since I had no way to cut these I couldn’t unpack, so I relaxed and turned on Vietnamese television and listened for a few minutes to an English language broadcast where it was announced that American tennis star, Pete Sampras, had just won the Japanese Open.

Lan had told me that Dr. Phong would stop by the Dan Chu Hotel at 3:00 P.M. to greet me. Since I had more than an hour, I went outside to explore the nearby streets of Ha Noi until meeting time.

Impressions: Ha Noi—clean streets, no trash, thousands of bicycles and motor bikes, women and men in conical rattan hats, others with hats covered by light green cloth reminiscent of movie style pith helmets. Pedestrians and workers everywhere: dozens of women and men balanced loads suspended by a narrow beam across their shoulders. At the ends of the beam were large circular trays capable of supporting most portable items. When objects of unequal weight needed to be transported the porter merely shifted the fulcrum by sliding the wooden bar forward/backward along the shoulder.

Bicycles and motor bikes formed congested lines at the traffic signals. Many small shops sold simple, basic necessities, while others were filled with status consumer goods such as television sets, Minolta cameras, and a wide range of electronics. Numerous sidewalk vendors sold bolts and nails, bicycle spare parts, and other hardware items. One book store I entered had a limited selection of English items, mostly how to learn English, preparation for TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language), and books on Vietnamese geography, and miscellaneous political and economic collections that described the Vietnamese investment opportunities. There even was a Vietnamese Yellow Pages in English for sale. Other titles dealt with Dien Bien Phu and other colonial battles, and several other titles mentioned Cambodia. [As I write these notes, well-wishers outside the Dan Chu Hotel celebrated a wedding by exploding hundreds of firecrackers].

Along the main streets of Ha Noi were numerous shops with pull-down, arcade-style windows that opened to the street for easy ventilation. On the facade of one building at the intersection of Trang Tien and Dinh Tien Hoang Streets, was a gigantic picture of President Ho Chi Minh holding a child. Most shops exhibited lettering that provided the spelling of the Vietnamese capital as Ha Noi, not Hanoi as commonly used in the West. Many shops in this vicinity sold Chinese-style silver and circular jade pendants. I walked further west along Trang Tien Street, then turned south on Ba Trieu. Here, I entered an artist’s studio and bought a colorful well-painted Tet basket-mask (Tet: the first month of the Vietnamese lunar calendar) that depicted a stylized tiger. The design and workmanship of this mask caught my attention more than anything else during my afternoon walk. The artist’s sister was managing the shop in his absence. She spoke Vietnamese and German, and had a limited English vocabulary. By combining my modest German and her minimal English we reached agreement: I paid the original asking price of $4.00. [Later, I would find out that the price was $3.00 too much, but at the time I was satisfied, and after all, price agreement and satisfaction are the keys, right? Besides, it was an outstanding mask].

During my walk I was besieged by many smiling children who asked the two classical questions posed everywhere in the world by young school children beginning to learn English and meeting English-speakers other than their teacher:

Wahht eez uur naaame?

Wahhht tiemeez eet?

When I heard their words I smiled because there was no difference in their Vietnamese-English pronunciation from the Arabic-English pronunciation of Egyptian school children who had asked me these two questions countless times years ago along the streets of Cairo.

I replied to their questions, smiled, and the children beamed back at me.

On my first walk along the streets of Ha Noi I also attracted beggars, especially small children ages 3-5. These children were persistent and tenacious since merely saying no had no effect. Vietnamese adults—probably used to this—watched me carefully to see what I would do. In turn, I watched the Vietnamese adult onlookers to see if they offered any assistance to the children who were begging. None did. And since none did, neither did I. It immediately was obvious to me that neither communism nor capitalism had the ability, capacity, or energy, to solve the problem of needy people: the existence of beggars and street people raised moral, ethical issues about government will—whether on the streets of Ha Noi or in San Francisco or Sacramento, California. In Ha Noi, however, the need was greater. The poor and homeless had little to no safety net in Ha Noi.

I inspected the display cases of a second-hand shop that sold scientific laboratory equipment and glassware. I thought it unusual that one could purchase second hand pH meters, flasks, and used test tubes and pipettes. Next door to this shop was a gem and gold-silver store where Vietnamese couples looked at wedding rings and attractive pieces of well-made, expensive jewelry. Adjacent to the gem-gold-silver shop were T-shirt and food vendors who displayed their products along the sidewalk.

Hundreds of pedicabs or cyclos lined the streets for hire. These modern, technical versions of ancient Chinese rickshaws were modified bicycles pulled by hard working men. The owners of the cyclos would catch my eye and offer their services. A friendly smile from me and a head-shake no, still elicited friendly smiles in return.

As I walked I was approached by numerous shoeshine boys, polite but at the same time aggressive, as they inspected my buff-brown hiking boots. Several spoke to me in reasonable street English and pointed out that I really needed to look better. I laughed: they sounded just like my wife, who sometimes would give me the look if I did not shine my shoes at least weekly. My smiles and firm no to the shoeshine boys were returned with broad smiles.

The shoeshine boys were fewer in number than the tenacious post card vendors, who grabbed onto my arms and urged me to buy their collection of Views of Ha Noi.

Look—ten pictures. Only one dollar. You buy!

The last, you buy, commonly was spoken as a command, not a request. But even these children, so well versed in the techniques of the hard sell, eventually smiled when I said no and insisted. They then left me alone.

Along the sides of one alley off Trang Tien Street there were several stalls where French and English books were sold by university-age, hard-working women. Some of these books were offered at quite reasonable prices, but others were listed at unreasonable, outlandish prices. Further, there was no relationship between the prices at the different book stalls. Most of the books, however, were not priced; the women would merely eye-ball prospective browsers, and then come up with a number. The starting price of the same Vietnamese geography book, for instance, was variously given to me as: $10, $8, $6, and $4 US dollars.

Pharmacies along the main streets of Ha Noi exhibited a range of European and Asiatic anti-acids, pills, and contraceptives. Dimly lit antique shops were filled with objects of art. I observed few customers even looking or browsing, and never saw a sale. I entered a combination store that sold books, postage stamps, and tape cassettes. The only Western artist that I could identify was Debbi Gibson since all the other music tapes had Chinese or Vietnamese labels.

I returned to the hotel and at 3:00 P.M. waited for Dr. Phong to arrive. Instead, Lan arrived and Mr. Kien drove us to NIAPP headquarters where he said Dr. Phong would meet us. Mr. Kien selected a route that took us south along nicely shaded streets and through an attractive residential section of Ha Noi. What immediately struck me as we drove was the absence of automobiles.

We arrived at the officers of NIAPP, where Dr. Phong stood outside waiting for me. I got out of the car and he immediately shook my hand. He was a pleasant, congenial man, with a broad smile. Dr. Phong knew several hundred words of English, and welcomed me. Together with Lan we walked upstairs and I was ushered into a second floor conference room.

Lan served as translator and we began our first formal meeting at 3:15 P.M. and held our discussion over several cups of exceptionally strong green Vietnamese-style tea.

Dr. Phong began. He described my trip in general. We would drive south, and then fly back to Ha Noi from Ho Chi Minh City, an approach to travel that allowed me to maximize my time in the south, but also required that we return to Ha Noi on Air Viet Nam, a company with a less than a stellar safety record.

The itinerary for my stay in Viet Nam was presented in English for my examination, review, and approval (Appendix 1). I was told that we would complete our bank and financial transactions tomorrow (April 22nd), and that we would then have a tour of Ha Noi, with special attention to the mausoleum of former President Ho Chi Minh, and the military museum. Dr. Phong confirmed that I would meet with the leadership, faculty, staff, and students at Ha Noi University, and then present a formal talk to them about my specialty, nutritional geography.

He related that the Ministry of Agriculture, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and Ministry of Interior had approved my requests to visit Ha Long Bay, the village of Kim Lien (birthplace of former President Ho Chi Minh), the National Military Cemetery in Quang Tri Province along the former DMZ (de-militarized zone). Furthermore, we would also visit the citadel at Hué, the village of Son My/My Lai, and the American veterans’ clinic at Vung Tau.

He told me that I would be invited to deliver a second speech on geography and potential research at Ho Chi Minh University, and would meet also with the leadership and faculty at the University of Hué in central Viet Nam, and at Can Tho, in the Me Kong Delta region.

Dr. Phong then asked me if my accommodation at the Dan Chu Hotel was all right?

I replied, yes.

I expressed my thanks. We then discussed how my trip had been funded and I asked him to relate to me how my trip expenses had been estimated. I told Dr. Phong that I was a University Professor, not a rich businessman, and he smiled. We reached a mutual agreement on car rental charges, and also agreed that we would stick to economic hotels so as to minimize expenses.

Dr. Phong thought it would be cost productive to hire one car for the portion of the trip from Ha Noi to Hué, then hire another car from Hué to Nha Trang, then a third car would be used from Nha Trang to Ho Chi Minh City. Dr. Phong believed that so doing the cost of the trip would be reduced.

He told me that our trip south would be managed so that my requests could be met: as I requested, he confirmed that we would be in Ho Chi Minh City on Victory Day (April 30th) and May Day (May 1st), in order to observe the celebrations on these national holidays.

Our meeting lasted until 4:30 P.M. Our conversation throughout were accommodating and congenial; we were off to a very good start.

After a rapid drive through the central part of Ha Noi, Mr. Kien and Lan returned me to the Dan Chu Hotel.

Ha Noi in late afternoon had the appearance and activity similar to central portions of downtown, traffic congested Cairo—except that Cairo was filled with automobiles, especially taxis, whereas traffic jams in downtown Ha Noi in late afternoon were caused by bicycles and motorbikes.

I went upstairs and found that my door handle was locked, but the door ajar. I went downstairs and told the desk: I was informed that this could not be and that all rooms at the hotel could lock.

Perhaps you had left it open?

Perhaps.

I borrowed scissors from the front desk so I could cut the luggage straps that had been machine placed around my bags at the Thai Airlines inspection counter. I returned upstairs and found the same door problem: the door handle was locked, but the room door was open. After a brief inspection I found that nothing was amiss.

After unpacking I went down stairs to the hotel restaurant to eat my first full meal in Viet Nam. The ground floor dining room of the Dan Chu Hotel was essentially empty. There were approximately twenty cloth-draped tables but few people were present in the dining room. A condiment tray was placed in the center of each table with black pepper and salt, and a pagoda-like toothpick holder. The toothpicks were un-tapered bamboo and easily splintered. The waitress wearing her English translator’s badge handed me a menu. Small fans attached to each of the room support pillars moved the humid, tepid air, and muzac from unrecognized Vietnamese and Western artists filled the air. The waitress waited and for the first meal in Viet Nam I ordered:

Dinner: Fried rice with egg;

Fried pork in peanut (?) oil;

Beer (Sai Gon 333);

Table condiments: black pepper, salt.

The waitress wrote my order on a form and asked me to sign in advance both the original and carbon with my name and room number. She turned in the order and then returned with a hot, cologne-scented washcloth. This nice custom I had first experienced in Thailand: such washcloths [sometimes hot; sometimes ice cold] are used to wipe off one’s face, neck, fingers, and wrists. I sat at the table and wrote journal notes while I waited for my order to arrive.

The fried rice was an ample portion, in fact the quantity was twice that served to me at the Thai Hotel restaurant in Bangkok where I had stayed the previous week. I had thought that fried rice with egg would be a dish where bits of chopped egg would be mixed through the rice. What came, however, was fried rice with a whole fried egg on top. The fried rice was mixed with chunks of dried tomato and chopped shallots. More surprising, however, was the fact that the rice served had not been cleaned of stones. This I found out quickly after my second bite. I was lucky and I made a mental note to be very careful when chewing, since I did not want to break a tooth or a crown and have to visit a local Vietnamese dentist. The pork was fried in oil, perhaps peanut oil (?) and was very tasty. The Sai Gon 333 beer was cold and refreshing. Total cost for dinner: U.S. $1.60. The fried rice and pork was $0.80 while the beer was the same price.

I returned upstairs, and again found my door handle locked, and the door open. Nothing was amiss and inside, my room was cool, almost chilly because of the power of the air conditioner. I sat and wrote notes. Lan telephoned my room and told me that he was downstairs in the lobby; his wife wanted to meet me.

I dressed, locked and closed my room door, and went down to greet them. After introductions they presented me with a gift of mandarin oranges and a map of Ha Noi. Lan’s wife spoke English. It was a pleasure to greet her. She invited me to visit her birth village. I asked if it would be permitted and Lan said—why not?

They were a nice couple; both worked in government service—he with NIAPP and she was a Ministry computer specialist. We inquired and conversed about our respective families: Lan had no brothers or sisters. He told me that his father had died in the war when Lan was young. I described my family and the work/activities of my father and brothers.

So here we were—eighteen years after the war—and American with Vietnamese hosts. My father was alive; Lan’s father was killed during an American bombing raid. For the next twenty-one days he would be my regular companion and translator.

Louis the capitalist and former Nixon Republican—Lan the communist and former soldier.

Two people, becoming acquainted, drawing closer professionally, and liking one another.

Lan outlined my activities for tomorrow as determined by Dr. Phong. First, we would cash traveler’s checks, deal with financial matters, then we would tour Ha Noi. Afterwards, we would meet Dr. Phong and Dr. My at 2:00 P.M. at NIAPP. Lan told me that work in Viet Nam usually began at 7:30 A.M., and he remarked that Dr. Phong worked very hard, almost too hard, and was always at NIAPP from early morning before 7:30 and that he usually stayed until after 6:00 P.M. I replied that I liked associating with hard working people, and that my professor colleagues and I frequently worked 60+ hour weeks at the University of California, Davis.

Lan and his wife wished me good sleep, then left.

I returned upstairs, found my door handle locked, and the door ajar. The mosquito netting had been arranged over and around my bed by the hotel porter, who also left behind a meal voucher for breakfast. Apparently, he/she had not shut the door tightly but nothing in the room was amiss. I practiced opening and closing the door. Doing so I discovered the problem: when the door was locked and the handle rattled, the door stayed shut, until the handle was released, then any change in room air pressure (?) from the air conditioner (?) popped it open. Anyone locking the door, leaving, and pulling the door shut—then releasing the door handle—would accidentally leave the door open. I propped a chair against the door for nighttime pseudo-security.

I watched television for a few minutes and then kept it on for two hours as background noise as I wrote journal notes. I looked up occasionally: the Ha Noi television station was broadcasting a European motorcycle race. When that was over, the next program aired was the Big Ten Athletic Conference Swimming Championships from the United States!

I poured as glass of boiled water from the thermos into one of the room glasses, the liquid that emerged took on an iron-red, greenish hue, probably a mix of minerals and algae (or was it