Call me cynical, but when Thien slipped several thousand dong--the equivalent of less than $1-- from our tipping kitty to a peasant woman for showing us the fragrant and edible leaves she carried on her back in a huge sack, I began to think we had entered a third-world theme park.
This crippled woman, who had been struggling with a recalcitrant water buffalo, left no doubt when she motioned me to wheel her along the rutted dirt road. I eagerly provided "American Express" service to atone for the sins of my country
. . . .only to discover that she wanted make sure she got home in time for our group to buy products she had spun from her loom, and which we subsequently saw in nearly every souvenir shop in Viet Nam!
Another woman proudly showed us teeth blackened by betel nut.
One Thai family (from the tribe, not the country) invited us into their spotless, modest home. It might have seemed invasive if they weren't so welcoming.
Bedroom:
Kitchen:
Family shrine:
Outhouse, garden & backyard:
Their shy daughter stayed downstairs with the family dog.
But there was evidence of her everywhere.
Children seemed less inclined than their parents to interact with tourists. This boy would have preferred fishing to posing until his father ordered him to show us his catch.
Still, it's hard to argue with a winning economic strategy: in a welcome sign of some prosperity, the village dogs looked as well cared-for and fed as the people. And a lot lazier!
PETA, however, would not like the caged birds that literally have to sing for their supper.
It would have been possible to do a "homestay." Thien said fewer than 20% of tourists do so.
Instead, we walked to the village center for lunch where rice dried in the sun.
Thom, nervous about his stomach, took off on a motorbike and instantly concluded he had to buy a Vespa as soon as he returned to New York.
The meal turned out to be the best we'd had yet, although I ate a grasshopper only to say I had done so.
No comments:
Post a Comment