Smiling woman street vendors selling fresh vegetables in the traditional way in Vietnam. Vietnam’s deep-rooted culture of kindness shines through in everyday acts across the country. Photo / 123RF
Smiling woman street vendors selling fresh vegetables in the traditional way in Vietnam. Vietnam’s deep-rooted culture of kindness shines through in everyday acts across the country. Photo / 123RF
It’s a subjective question and is bound to draw out multiple opinions, but Vietnam offers one of the kindest cultures, writes Cath Johnsen
I’m sipping on a cheap glass of wine and watching the spectacle that is Bui Vien Walking Street after sunset in Ho Chi Minh City. From my curbside seat, a young Saigonese local whom I’ve struck up conversation with (and who insists on calling his home city by its pre-communist name, Saigon), explains the history of the area.
This long-time backpacker enclave lights up at night in a chaotic jumble of vendors selling street food, souvenir shops spruiking their wares, clubs with table-top dancers gyrating to high-decibel K-pop and locals nonchalantly weaving through the traffic on motorbikes loaded with sleeping children, dressed-up pet dogs and strapped-on groceries. It’s a sensory overload, and I stare, enraptured.
Toum Tiou 2 ship. Photo / Croisi Europe and CF Mekong
When I turn to grin at my new friend, he meets my gaze and, without any hint of romantic overture, says, “Your smile is very beauty”. That a young man would take the time to give a middle-aged woman such a warm and genuine compliment; to notice the small details of humanity amongst the raucous surroundings, made it feel like one of the kindest things anyone had ever said to me.
Ho Chi Minh City was the final port of call on my Discovery Riverboat Cruise with CF Mekong by Croisi Europe. As we glided down the aquatic lifeblood, calling into various Vietnamese towns for shore excursions, it was more often the people, and their demonstrable kindness, rather than the ancient attractions or natural beauty which caught my attention.
Vietnam places a strong cultural value on offering mutual assistance, known as tinh thần tương thân tương ái (the spirit of mutual love and support). This principle is deeply embedded in Vietnamese society, where people often go out of their way to help strangers, whether it’s offering directions or assisting after natural disasters.
Tra Su Forest Waterways. Photo / Cath Johnsen
When our teak-panelled riverboat stopped in bustling Chau Doc, I saw this virtue in action. I had just turned down a street vendor’s offer to buy her proffered chicken hands (I really need to learn the Vietnamese word for vegetarian), when our tour guide pointed out an act of kindness. A local man was paying a roadside cafe owner in advance for “cơm treo” (hanging rice). When someone in need later comes along, they can claim this free meal, which is sometimes sitting (hanging) at the front of the shop, ready to be discreetly taken.
Other times, a sign will indicate whether hanging meals are available. Paying in advance for “cà phê treo” (hanging coffee) is common too. I buy a sweet, Vietnamese coffee: bitter espresso paired with sweetened condensed milk served over ice, and I feel cooled by the drink but also warmed by the notion of this culture’s way of paying it forward.
Our ship's crew shopping at the local markets. Photo / Cath Johnsen
Later, our riverboat took us into the heart of the Mekong Delta, and our shore excursion delivered us deep into the Tra Su Forest. Here, I climbed the observation tower to get a bird’s-eye view of the 850ha forest, and the 70 species of birds that call this sanctuary, and now a popular ecotourism site, home. Forty years of painstaking reforestation by the Government and local communities has successfully breathed new life into this ancient wetland ecosystem, which sustained significant damage during the Vietnam War. Now you can pay to glide around its hyacinth-strewn streams in small watercraft, or hike through its depths.
Hammocks in Tra Su Forest. Photo / Cath Johnsen
Arriving at the top of the observatory, drenched in wet season sweat, I spy a beautiful, young Vietnamese couple on their honeymoon, somehow not even sporting a bead of perspiration. They are taking Polaroids of themselves against the backdrop of graceful melaleuca trees. I try to look at the view unobtrusively, not wanting to trespass on their special moment, but they insist on taking a photograph of me and my friends too. Handing me the developing picture, they say meaningfully, “so you can remember your time in our country”. I still have it on my fridge.
Of course, I’m not naive. Vietnam is not some kind of utopia. The impoverished still suffer, and I was reminded of this when I was weaving my way through Ho Chi Minh’s littered back streets and alleyways, pitying the skinny kittens searching for scraps. As I neared the glitzy Bui Vien Walking Street, motorbikes skimmed either side of me, drawn towards the noisy chaos, leading the way.
The Tra Su Forest was reforested over 40 years after damage during the Vietnam War. Photo / Cath Johnsen
That was when I noticed a mother and child, lying on the edge of the street, both deep in slumber as they embraced one another. I paused, unsure of how I could help them, other than by leaving a wad of dong for them to wake up to. It struck me that they seemed to be sleeping more soundly than I usually did in my feathered bed at home, often lying awake with my Western worries, which now seemed inconsequential. Reluctantly walking on, I could only hope and pray that Vietnam’s spirit of mutual love and support would be wide enough to embrace these two beautiful, vulnerable humans.
The writer travelled courtesy of CF Mekong by CroisiEurope.
