Journey Through Asia-Land

Watch us fumble through Asia!

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Before I departed for Asia, I often worried about their infamous street vendors. As a naive, and often lost and confused, westerner, I figured that they would be able to suck my money out of my anti-theft wallet like financially motivated vacuums. How could anyone, I thought, be able to resist the soft calls and big, brown eyes of those child sales-squads? I should not have underestimated the power of human adaptation. The sheer number of people asking for money hardens your heart quickly. I gained the ability to sweep right over those big brown eyes and block out the not-so-soft calls of Cambodia children who, waving postcards, will run up and chant, “Dollar only for ten! Look: one, two, three …” Pushy street vendors are as much a part of the scenery as the crumbling ruins and cultural museums and, unfortunately, I began to see straight through people. 

The guilt apparent in my confession appeared when we visited the Vietnamese Women’s Museum in Hanoi. It was an interesting display: three floors with varying themes of female contributions to culture and history. It was also our first day in Vietnam, so it was our first taste of the communist propaganda that is sprinkled among the display plaques and labels in many Vietnamese museums. However, what really stayed with me was a woman’s story detailed in a five minute video feature about women vendors in Vietnam. She calmly explained that her farmland had been taken away by the government, and her and her husband needed to find jobs to support their three children. Her husband found work as a construction worker, but fell and broke his neck on the job. He spent three months in the hospital, and three months at home, before finally dying. She now works in Hanoi as a street vendor, so that her children could continue going to school. She goes home once every ten days with $20. She stays in a room with a dozen other women, for $0.35 a night. She gets up at 2am to buy her wares at the market. A good day means that she can pack up and go to bed around 5pm. If not, she’s out til 8pm. Then she goes back to the room, showers, eats and goes to sleep. 

The prospect of being forced into this kind of life is so daunting; I couldn’t imagine that I have the fortitude to continue without a hope for a better future. After hearing that story, I began looking a little more closely at the vendors in Vietnam. They were all women, and they were all hardened. They didn’t slouch under the weight of their wares half as much as I slouched under the weight of my bag. They had a lot of friends. Most of them would smile, wave, laugh and call out to people that she passed. It almost seemed indecent to be so happy with such a hard life. To think how many people, myself included, are resentful at the slightest downfall. Eventually, I did fall back into the habit of ignoring potential salesmen, but the memory of the straight-backed, smiling street vendor remains solid.

Before I departed for Asia, I often worried about their infamous street vendors. As a naive, and often lost and confused, westerner, I figured that they would be able to suck my money out of my anti-theft wallet like financially motivated vacuums. How could anyone, I thought, be able to resist the soft calls and big, brown eyes of those child sales-squads? I should not have underestimated the power of human adaptation. The sheer number of people asking for money hardens your heart quickly. I gained the ability to sweep right over those big brown eyes and block out the not-so-soft calls of Cambodia children who, waving postcards, will run up and chant, “Dollar only for ten! Look: one, two, three …” Pushy street vendors are as much a part of the scenery as the crumbling ruins and cultural museums and, unfortunately, I began to see straight through people.

The guilt apparent in my confession appeared when we visited the Vietnamese Women’s Museum in Hanoi. It was an interesting display: three floors with varying themes of female contributions to culture and history. It was also our first day in Vietnam, so it was our first taste of the communist propaganda that is sprinkled among the display plaques and labels in many Vietnamese museums. However, what really stayed with me was a woman’s story detailed in a five minute video feature about women vendors in Vietnam. She calmly explained that her farmland had been taken away by the government, and her and her husband needed to find jobs to support their three children. Her husband found work as a construction worker, but fell and broke his neck on the job. He spent three months in the hospital, and three months at home, before finally dying. She now works in Hanoi as a street vendor, so that her children could continue going to school. She goes home once every ten days with $20. She stays in a room with a dozen other women, for $0.35 a night. She gets up at 2am to buy her wares at the market. A good day means that she can pack up and go to bed around 5pm. If not, she’s out til 8pm. Then she goes back to the room, showers, eats and goes to sleep.

The prospect of being forced into this kind of life is so daunting; I couldn’t imagine that I have the fortitude to continue without a hope for a better future. After hearing that story, I began looking a little more closely at the vendors in Vietnam. They were all women, and they were all hardened. They didn’t slouch under the weight of their wares half as much as I slouched under the weight of my bag. They had a lot of friends. Most of them would smile, wave, laugh and call out to people that she passed. It almost seemed indecent to be so happy with such a hard life. To think how many people, myself included, are resentful at the slightest downfall. Eventually, I did fall back into the habit of ignoring potential salesmen, but the memory of the straight-backed, smiling street vendor remains solid.

Filed under strong women Vietnam street vendor

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It is interesting to travel the world and witness the differing criterion for beauty that exists across continents and races. The most obvious of which is the Asian woman’s struggle to maintain smooth, white skin in the harsh face of the devastating SE Asian sun. Sunscreen is applied in several layers, huge hats are worn to provide some shade, and every area of exposed skin is covered (even gloves!). I had a lot of trouble finding moisturizer without whitening agents in it. Of course, this is in sharp contrast to the western desire for glowing, tanned skin. The whitening creams can be compared to those horrible leave-on tan creams that turn those poor girls orange. 
A rather shocking example of foreign beauty standards is black teeth, which we first saw on elderly women in the Lahu tribe in northern Thailand. We’ve since learned that until the mid-20th century, men and women lacquered their teeth with resin to protect them from decay. Resin was collected from burned tree branches, and mixed with water. Three or four layers would be then applied to clean teeth every two or three nights until the teeth were very black. Girls would begin the process at the age of 12 or 13. So black teeth could be the Asian equivalent of middle-school experiments with black eyeliner and lipstick.

It is interesting to travel the world and witness the differing criterion for beauty that exists across continents and races. The most obvious of which is the Asian woman’s struggle to maintain smooth, white skin in the harsh face of the devastating SE Asian sun. Sunscreen is applied in several layers, huge hats are worn to provide some shade, and every area of exposed skin is covered (even gloves!). I had a lot of trouble finding moisturizer without whitening agents in it. Of course, this is in sharp contrast to the western desire for glowing, tanned skin. The whitening creams can be compared to those horrible leave-on tan creams that turn those poor girls orange. 

A rather shocking example of foreign beauty standards is black teeth, which we first saw on elderly women in the Lahu tribe in northern Thailand. We’ve since learned that until the mid-20th century, men and women lacquered their teeth with resin to protect them from decay. Resin was collected from burned tree branches, and mixed with water. Three or four layers would be then applied to clean teeth every two or three nights until the teeth were very black. Girls would begin the process at the age of 12 or 13. So black teeth could be the Asian equivalent of middle-school experiments with black eyeliner and lipstick.

Filed under beauty culture til

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Some parents of the Hmong tribe in Vietnam give their child a temporary ugly name is hopes that evil spirits will not be interested in their baby.

Some parents of the Hmong tribe in Vietnam give their child a temporary ugly name is hopes that evil spirits will not be interested in their baby.

Filed under vietnam folklore

13 notes

          Some Facts about Laos National Unexploded Ordinances                                                                 Program

  • Laos is the most heavily bombed country, per capita, in the world
  • The Ho Chi Minh Trail was used by the Viet Cong to supply the southern resistance against the Americans during the Vietnam War. It runs through Laos and Cambodia, linking north and south Vietnam, and was heavily bombed by the Americans.
  • Over 2 million tons of ordinances was dropped on Laos between 1964 and 1973, 30% of which did not detonate upon impact. That left over 80 million unexploded bombs in Laos after the war
  • Because of these hidden threats, locals are afraid to farm and work. 41 out of 46 poorest districts in Laos are also the most highly contaminated by UXOs. 
  • Over 50 000 people have been killed by UXOs since the beginning of the bombs, including many children. Part of Laos UXO’s mission is educating children on how these “bombies” look like, so they do not mistake them for toys (some pretty heartbreaking stories about that are on display)
  • The people of Laos have accustomed to their hardship, using bomb shells as house stilts and walls, candlestick holders and lamp shades. And despite the government laws against it and the high risk associated with the practice, scrap metal is still traded often. 

http://www.uxolao.org/

Filed under Laos humanitarism uxo