Cultural Divide

The sun has just come up and already Ho Chi Minh City’s streets are bustling with motorcycles and tourists on rickshaws.

After four weeks of roaming Vietnam’s coastline my three traveler friends and I have become accustomed to crossing the chaotic streets. The four of us weave our way from our hotel down a narrow pathway and across the busy main road.

It’s the final day of our four week journey down Vietnam’s majestic coastline and we are heading to Ho Chi Minh City’s largest market.

‘No, 10000 Dong!’
‘No, 3000 Dong!’
My friend Stacey is negotiating with a merchant over two small wooden magnets that have been carved and painted to look like traditional Vietnamese men and women.

A small local girl tugs on my leg. She smiles at me with her palm open and says ‘got a buck Joe?’ Despite the US military departing Vietnam’s shores several decades ago, reminders of their influence remain.

I think to myself; a dollar, all she wants is a dollar. That’s pocket change to me.

I snap back to reality and remember my friend bartering with the market stall holder. Realising the price of the magnets, 10000 Dong, is the equivalent of approximately 50 Australian cents, I hand the money to the merchant, grab my friend and her newly purchased magnets and head for the exit.

After a month in Vietnam we have all become accustomed to the local way of life and it is easy to get caught up in the chaos, passion and traditions. The locals have a thirst for life that is both intense and inspiring.

My friend is furious with me for handing over the full price. I explain to her the Australian value of what I have just handed over in return for her two little magnets. She pauses and her frown changes to a smile as she opens her palm, hands me one of the magnets and instructs me to keep it on my fridge back home so I see it every day. ‘Remember how lucky we are, how beautiful this world is, and never stop discovering it.’

And I do, every day.