Another Painting from Vietnam

This painting reminds me of the “olden days.”  Simpler times and uncomplicated people.  A time in which I would have loved to have lived.  Grow  your own veggies and fruits.  Hunt your families meat.  Make your own clothing.  Create from  scratch or barter for other of life’s necessities or luxuries.  Build your own hooch in the jungle or on the river.  Live your life in as simple a manner as possible.  I don’t know if it was ever really like that, but, it’s a nice fantasy.

We have made life much too complicated in modern times.  We have created Governments to free us and provide security, etc.  But!  Have we freed ourselves?  Are we truly secure?  Governments are created and forced on people no matter their preference to have or to not have them.  In modern times, the people have grown so dependent on governance that we have no semblance of true independence.  No idea of true free will.  I don’t know if this is good or bad.  What have we as choices in America?  Democrats with their independence diminishing entitlements programs and Republicans with their parasitic, blood  sucking big business.  I’m inclined to believe that both are enemies of the people.  Both enemies of freedom and free will.  We have allowed our independence for which the founding fathers paid a blood price to be whittled away until it is no more than a mere shadow of it’s former self.  We have sold our freedom so that we might shuffle up to the trough of Democratic entitlements or 9-5 slave waging for Big Business.   It seems to me at times that we are no more better off than the serfs of the Middle Ages.  Certainly, we are fatter and we live longer.  But, to what end?  To what end.

At any rate, this is my favorite painting of those that I purchased in Vietnam.  I bought this in Hanoi in  the old French Quarter not too far from the Hanoi Hilton.   Hanoi was amazing to me.  It was another world.  I roamed the streets for hours.  Hired both a moto-taxi and a Sampan to tool me around during my two day visit.    I took a tour of the infamous Hanoi Hilton with it’s pictures of John McCain and John Kerry.  It’s a horror show inside as it was a French Colonial and Vietnamese house of horror and torture.  The prison was built by the French Colonial Government and used to hold and interrogate political prisoners until the French withdrawal after their defeat at Dien Bien Phu.   The Ho Chi Minh government then took control of it and used it to hold American POWs as well as Vietnamese POWs, political dissidents and others who opposed the communist governement.  Only a small part of the oringial compound remains.  Still, it is an interesting tour.  One can wait in line for an hour or so and view the body of old Uncle Ho.  No cameras allowed, though.  Take a 15 minute ride on a sampan and view his house and Capital building.  Venture over to the War Museum with it’s grotesque displays of human tragedy and war propaganda.

Some of the damage that America wrought 30 years ago in Hanoi is still evident.  One can still see the bomb craters here and there around town and in the country side.  Even so, the Vietnam people have mostly moved on.  Leaving the war behind as best they could and a bit better than we did.  I’m sure there are many wounds that are yet to heal.  But the people whom I met welcomed me and were generous in their hospitality towards me–the visiting American.

Traveling on the Mekong, one sees women much like this lady washing their hair over the river.  Rinsing their hair with a bucket or a bowl.  Early in the morning.  Sometimes through a foggy haze…it’s quite beautiful.  A mesmerizing site.

Something wonderfully peaceful about such a scene to me.  I can’t quite explain it.

I got her framed at Deck the Walls in Oxmoor Mall in St Matthews Mall in Louisville, Kentucky.  My old Kentucky Home.    And she hangs in my parents house while I’m over here in Afghanistan.

Lost in the fog of war; A peaceful Vietnam…30 years later


If we were not in Vietnam, all that part of the world would be enjoying the obscurity it so richly deserves.
John Kenneth Galbraith


About a year ago, I found myself in Vietnam. It was a strange feeling to be there. I’m the son of a Vietnam War Veteran. I’ve got at least 5 Uncles who were in Vietnam or Southeast Asia during the war. I served in the Cold War era Army. We were still singing Vietnam era cadences during Drill and Ceremony and Physical Fitness Training. ‘Nam was the enemy back then. And somewhere in the back of my mind, this country still felt somewhat like the enemy. Intellectually, the war was over. Some 30 odd years gone. Emotionally, I still felt a tug somewhere deep in the inner sanctum of my spirit. It still somewhat felt like a place where the enemy still lurked. As I made my journey down the Mekong towards the border between Cambodia and Vietnam, I couldn’t help but recall stories, half memories of things that Vietnam Vets had said in TV interviews, scenes from movies like Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Full Metal Jacket. In my head, there were “gooks in the wire” and I didn’t quite know what to expect as a lone American trekking through Vietnam.

My worries, such as they were, were all for naught.

I landed at the border control point in a small nameless village off of the Mekong. The border control agensts were worried about three things. Passport. VISA. Border Crossing Tax.

They verify your VISA. Stamp your Passport. You pay the tax. You’re on your way.

The Vietnamese people were fascinated by the American in their midst.

“Where you from?”


“Ah…America GOOD!”

Not what I expected. lol

But a pleasant surprise.

The first stop after the border crossing was a town called Chau Doc.


In Chau Doc, I hired a guy to drive me around in a rickshaw. This is an extremely slow way to get around. lol You feel like you could get out and walk faster. Especially since all rickshaw drivers deem it their duty to ask you every question that pops into their head. Your age. Your name. Are you married? Where you’re from? What is Kentucky? Do you have girlfriend? And on and on.

After exchanging money, I wanted to get to an internet cafe. It seems that there are internet cafes in even the smallest towns in Asia. I was driven down a series of side streets and alleyways and finally deposited in front of an open faced building with about 20 computers. There were probably 11 or 12 young boys and girls playing online games.

As I walked into the internet cafe, I glanced next door at a group of older gents who were having a drink. I don’t know if this was someones house or a restaurant or…? No clue. I smiled and said hello. All of the men smiled at me and one said something to me in Vietnamese. I turned around to my rickshaw driver who informed me that they would like to have a drink with me. I’m never one to turn down a drink. (it’d be rude) I accepted. One of the guys handed me a shotglass. We toasted to world peace or the beautiful women of Vietnam…something. lol Who knows. I downed the drink as they all stared at me. They smiled when I finished and then downed their drinks as well. Repeat, Rinse, Finish. I drank a couple of shots with them. Some kind of rice whiskey, I’m sure. Pretty strong. I wanted to spit the first drink back out. Like drinking fire. But I learned in Korea not to make the “HOLY SHIT!” face when imbibing in strong drink with Asian men. It’s a machismo thing. Finally, I begged off. Telling them that I needed to contact home.

I sat down to email home and tell everyone that I was safe (if only for now).

No sooner had I sat down than a pretty little Vietnamese school teacher asks me if her young students could practice their English on me. Well, I was a still little high from the liquor. But I’m never one to turn down a pretty gal. So I was suddenly faced with about 15 beautiful little Vietnamese children. Probably aged 6 to 10. They stood in line patiently and orderly in their school uniforms. Each of them walked up to me. Said Hello. Welcome to Vietnam. Told me their name. And wished me a good day. It was the cutest thing in the world.

After the children had finished, the cute teacher thanked me for my patient assistance and I finally was able to check my email.

The next day, I was off to Ho Chi Minh City aka Saigon.


I stayed in Saigon a few days. While there, I took a tour of the Viet Cong tunnels at Cu Chi which is right outside of Saigon. It was an interesting tour. Cu Chi is a sprawling complex of tunnels that runs throughout the country side and at one time supposedly ran all the way back to and through Saigon. I crawled around in some of the tunnels. At some points the tunnels were so small, so tight that I actually got stuck in a few place and had to back out, turn sideways or otherwise contort my body to make it through. I was too big to fit into their entrances and had to go through the ones that had been widened after the war. There was absolutely no way to fit my shoulders through those entrances. I can’t believe that people were/are that thin. lol But I guess if you are subsisting on rice, tapioca and tea for 10 to 25 years with the added stress of combat….thin would be the least of your problems. At least you’re alive. There’s your diet if you want to lose weight. Tea, steamed tapioca, rice and stress so intense that you get post-traumatic stress syndrome. I’ll pass.

Cu Chi was one of the most bombed areas in what was once called South Vietnam. We knew there were tunnels there. We didn’t know the extent. So we bombed the place into a no mans land. Absolutely pummeled it. The craters in this area are immense and numerous. Markers of war’s and America’s brutality. You see signs every so often. US B52 bomb crater. Pictures from the era show a land decimated. Lifeless. Total destruction. Like a moonscape. Nothing but craters and earth torn asunder.

For my part, it was strange touring the tunnels. Everything is from the Vietnamese perspective. The Vietnamese view of how things went down with a healthy does of Uncle Ho philosophy. The tour guides talk of having so many American kills. The Imperialist Americans did this. Blew up this. Bombed that. The picture of the tank that ran over a mine… When I took that photo. The tour guide was saying; “this one got hit so it couldn’t DROS.” DROS is the term used for soldiers who are moving out of theatre to go back to the states from an overseas assignment. All of the representations of the enemy were American soldiers. When I saw people posing on top of that tank for pictures, I felt offended. But even so, I understood. Except the Americans who did so. I couldn’t quite bring myself to pose in such a manner with a symbol of my country and it’s mistaken policy. A symbol of my fallen comrades. Not even after a space of 30 years. It felt like someone pulling at a scab over my heart. There were many mannequins in Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army Uniforms. The tour guide was very proud of his Army’s defeat of the American Imperialist. Very proud of his military. I could identify with that as I’m proud of my comrades in the military–past and present. Each time, he stopped by a group of mannequins posed in various acts, he would say; “Vietnam solder, very beautiful.” It was comical. But awesome to see such pride in the military. And it felt genuine and not arrogant or forced. My tour guide was an ex ARVN soldier. He was very matter of fact about the whole thing. He/They spoke of Americans as we speak of the British at our Rev War battlefield parks. A bit painful to hear my fellow countrymen spoken of in such a fashion. Odd. They didn’t seem to hold a grudge. And they very well could have. A learning experience.

At the end of the tour, there was a firing range. You had a choice between an M60, AK47, M16, .50 Cal of some sort and an M14. I blew off a few rounds on the AK47. You paid about .50 cents a bullet. Locked and Loaded and fired away. Then handed your weapon back to the range dude. Great to be able to shoot a weapon and then just walk away. Not worry about cleaning it and passing weapons inspection as in the old Army days

I can’t help to think as I am walking around that these people went through 25 years of hell and all they wanted was to be left alone. China, France and us.

A few days later, I flew to Hanoi. Walking around Hanoi and visiting their museums, I caught myself thinking about the war. Looking around, wondering how many of those who were walking by me would be combatants. How many would be dead if we were still bombing Hanoi. I met some really nice people up in Hanoi. Yet, I used to think of the Vietnamese as inhuman when I was a young boy and a young soldier.

Everyone in Vietnam was open and welcoming. I was treated warmly everywhere. I had no bad encounters. They seem to harbor no grudge over the events of 30 years ago. Even the old soldiers who will sometimes walk up and tell you that they fought in the war. But not as if bragging, just a matter of fact statement. And then they will say; “America GOOD!” Smile and go about their business. That was amazing to me. It’s the universal saying over here. “America Good!” (While back home, it seems that the press is always telling us “America bad…”)

As in Beijing with Mao, I went to the Ho Chi Minh Mausaleum and saw Uncle Ho in Hanoi. Something disconcerting seeing a petrified Human. They worship Uncle Ho. Especially in the North. You don’t hear much criticism of him. And rightly so, I suppose. He was already a God-like figure prior to the end of World War II. Then he led them out of Colonialism in defeating the French. Threw off “American Imperialism” when we decided to make the mistake of following the French into Indochina. (How we did not figure out that following the French anywhere was a bad idea, I will never know. That should have been intuitive.) The more I know about history and such, the more I wonder about decisions of American Presidents in the post WWII era.

More on Hanoi later…

These are photos from the Cu Chi tunnel complex.

viet-minh-booby-traps.jpg One of the traps employed by the Viet Cong to take U.S. Soldiers out of action during the war.

tunnel-rat-cu-chi-tunnels-near-saigon.jpg Emerging from a tunnel. A couple of women freaked out down here. I got stuck in some places. Lots of crawling sideways. These tunnels were definite not designed for those of Europ descent.

us-tank-that-hit-a-mine-in-1970-no-dros-as-the-tour-guide-said.jpg A group of tourist pose atop a US Tank. This was a meloncholy moment for me. A Vietnamese War Tropy, A sign of failed American policy, Fallen Comrades.

door-spike-trap.jpg Another gruesome trap from the jungles of Vietnam.


These photos are from Hanoi.


ho-chi-minh-mausaleum-hanoi.jpg Uncle Ho’s Mausaleum. Walk through a long line. View Uncle Ho. The guy is revered throughout Vietnam.

war-museum-hanoi-1.jpg war-museum-hanoi-2.jpg This is a pretty famous photo from the War Era. It’s blown up to lifesize and placed in front of a pile of wreckage and unexploded ordnance from the War era.

uncle-ho.jpg Statue of Ho Chi Minh in the Ho Chi Minh Museum.

hanoi-hilton.jpg A photo of the old Hanoi Hilton complex. This was originally a French prison. The French Colonial government imprisoned political prisoners here prior to their ignominious defeat and retreat from Indochina. The North Vietnamese turned it into a POW prison for high value prisoners such as pilots and officers. John McCain was imprisoned here as a POW.