Continued from Weekend Jaunt to Vietnam, Part 1
The next morning, we woke up bright and early, ready to explore even more of Ho Chi Minh and the history of the area. We booked a tour that would take us to the Cu Chi Tunnels just outside of Ho Chi Minh. This network of tiny tunnels, stretching more than 250 km, were used by the Vietnamese guerrilla soldiers to hide from the American forces in daylight during the War. Before seeing the tunnels, the visitor center shows an antiquated documentary of the war, clearly published by the Communist government, in which it refers to Americans as the “rebel forces” and “the enemy.” It was all very surreal for me, knowing that they were referring to my father, who had fought in the War.
We walked for a short distance, and came upon one of the openings of the tunnel system. It was ridiculously tiny, and only someone with a waist size smaller than 34 inches would successfully make it through the opening. A few meters away was an enlarged-version of the tunnel entrance so that fat American tourists could avoid the inevitable embarrassment caused by becoming lodged in the original entryway.
After a series of exhibits on booby-traps, fighting techniques, and life in the tunnels, it was time for us to crawl through them. The ones that were open to the public were, of-course, enlarged versions of the original, but they were still plenty small for my liking. The enlarged version is about 80 cm wide and 1 meter tall, just barely tall enough for me to walk completely hunched over. There were several options. I could crawl in the tunnels for 90 meters total, but was able to exit every 30 meters. Always up for a challenge, I was determined to go the whole 90 meters, but the second I crawled the 3 meters below the surface, my senses reminded me how ridiculous this proposition was, and they began every technique available to them to get me to exit at the first chance. My heart began to pound, I began to sweat profusely, and I began to hallucinate tourist-hungry bats hanging from the top of the tunnel, ready to jump on my back at any second. In fact, I couldn’t see anything because of the lack of lighting, except when the camera was flashed in my face to capture the look of terror that had become a seemingly permanent expression. I scrambled up to the exit after the first 30 meters, but felt no remorse that I did not complete my goal. It was horrific being under there for even a few minutes. I simply cannot imagine what it was like for men to live down there in 12-hour shifts.
The bus took us back to Ho Chi Minh and dropped us off in front of the Museum of American and Chinese War Atrocities, now renamed as the War Remnants Museum to be more American-tourist friendly (are you seeing a pattern?). The outside yard displayed many American armaments that had been captured or destroyed in the war. Inside were countless photographs from the war recounting the destruction. Having never been exposed to this side of the coin, it was all very difficult for me to take in. I sat outside on the steps and waited for the others to finish looking around.
We walked several blocks to the Reunification Palace, where the South surrendered to the Communist North in the spring of 1975. When I heard that we were going to a palace, I expected something along the lines of the Biltmore Mansion in America, but I was quickly faced with the reality that it was built in the 1960’s, and thus “an excellent example of 1960’s architecture,” at least that’s what our Lonely Planet guidebook told us. We arrived just before closing time, so we had the entire building practically to ourselves. Honestly, it was pretty ugly. But I guess you might like it if you enjoy Indochinese design from the mid-century. Regardless, it was historical and a good experience. 
We called it quits for our self-taught history lessons for the day and headed home to relax for a while before heading out for dinner and more evening sightseeing. I flipped on the TV and was delighted to find that we had American cable channels. Having no access to TV on the Race (other than a few downloaded episodes of The Office), my life has been TV-free since June. It was nice to indulge for a while, even if I was watching a horribly made documentary on lavish 16-year-olds’ birthday parties on MTV.
We ate dinner at an Italian restaurant in the Pham Ngu Lao district near where we were staying. Afterward, Colleen and I walked around the area and did a little shopping. I found a whole store dedicated to purses, one of my weaknesses. There were so many stacks that my little heart couldn’t take it. I was able to restrain myself from buying several dozen only because I couldn’t muster up the energy to shift through the hundreds of disordered piles. We walked into another store and Colleen noticed The Purpose Driven Life sitting on a side table. Intrigued, she asked the man working there if he had read it. It’s not often that you find Christian books in South East Asia. He said that he had read it and really enjoyed it. We talked with him for a while and found out that he has been a Christian for 2 years now, but only has one other Christian friend, which is very difficult for him. We were able to encourage him in the Lord, and we prayed with him that God would continue to send Christians into his life.
After a few more shops, we headed home and immediately crashed in bed, hoping to get as much sleep as possible so our bus ride early the next morning wouldn’t be entirely miserable.
