A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Those who know me in my normal life are aware that I've always been a magnet for weirdos, the mentally ill, and chatty drunks. I have been blessed (or cursed) with a face that exudes good nature and all-around harmlessness. In some cases this is a good thing -- I have never had my bags searched at a border crossing, for example. However, in day to day urban life it can create a problem, as in general I don't want to talk to strangers, but strangers often want to talk to me. And I want to emphasize the word "strange". During my regular commute in Seattle I experimented with an unapproachable demeanor, simultaneously listening to my Walkman, reading a book, and avoiding any and all eye contact. My attempts were in vain, however, as homeless nutcases, religious fanatics, and government employees would sit down next to me and begin to speak loud enough to be heard over my headphones.

Things on that front have slowed down but not stopped altogether here in Saigon. People still talk to me all the time, but mostly to sell me something or ask about my arm. The language challenge is a very effective deterrent for most crazies, apparently, or maybe there's some sort of cultural barrier to sharing your life story with a stranger. But every once in a while one will sneak through.

Last week I was wandering around town trying to get lost on my day off, when a young Vietnamese approached and spoke to me in English. Let me just say at the outset that he was one of those sneaky weirdos, who seem perfectly normal at first glance and then gradually descend into insanity during the course of a conversation. This particular guy was dressed quite respectably, though a bit too much like a Mormon missionary, which should have been a tipoff for me. He explained to me that he was applying to university in the US, and implied that he had written a letter that he wanted a native speaker to take a look at. Since I had nothing planned for the rest of the day (ah, the life of leisure!), I agreed to go get coffee and share my language and cultural expertise.

At first all was well -- the usual chitchat about my job, origin, length of stay in Saigon, etc. But then we started a farcical dialogue that went something like this:

Weird Vietnamese Guy: How long have you been a teacher?
Innocent Victim Me: 3 months.
WVG: How long have you been a teacher?
IVM: 3 months.
WVG: No, how long have you been a teacher?
IVM: 3 months -- only since I arrived in HCMC.
WVG: No! Do you know Jesus?
IVM: Oh crap, you meant "How long have you been a Christian", didn't you?
WVG: Have you accepted Jesus Christ into your life?
IVM: I'm not religious and I don't want to talk about it.

What proceeded was a 30 minute discussion in which it turns out I wasn't there to proofread a letter, but to give tips on how to beg/persuade/strongarm a visiting president of some podunk southern California pentacostal bible college to give him a scholarship and free trip to the USA. His Poor Pitiful Me lament was interspersed with religious pronouncements and self-serving interpretations of various bible stories I remember from childhood. He was unable to understand why, since he was so teeming with love for God, his fellow man and his relentless persecutors, people weren't falling over themselves to help him out. Why don't women want to marry him? Why won't this stranger give him a scholarship? Why won't I, a person he has known 15 minutes, go speak to the bible college president on his behalf?

At first I was fairly quiet, making thoughtful suggestions about what to say in a meeting or what to write in a follow-up letter. But after he wore me down with the endless carping and belief that everyone owes him a living, I switched to my own family's time-honored philosophy: Stop Whining and Buck Up. I proceeded to explain the "God helps those who help themselves" concept and informed him that there was no rational reason that any woman would marry a man with no job, no prospects, and an obsession with talking about Jesus.

OK, so maybe I'm not the most compassionate person in the world, but if he would follow my advice I'm sure things would get better for him. Next time I think I'll work on softening the wording a bit, though.

© 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 7:30 PM