Prosperity, Longevity and Happiness

 

We first met in a little art gallery in Hoi An, Vietnam. The front door on the cobbled street was wide open and I walked in, curious about the shelves and walls covered with magical wood carvings. After a brief greeting with the young sales woman, I became entranced by three carved figures, standing together on a shelf. They are meant to stay together and I bought all three, along with a teak wood Buddha and a few other carved objects.

The three have been with me for years now. I forgot what each man represents and sent photos to a friend in Vietnam who sent me the info. Over time I lost track again.

They stand on a bookcase and offer silent blessings each day. I could not tell Amy what they personify and had to work hard to come up with three phrases; happiness, longevity and prosperity . . . but could not identify which is which.

A search on the internet came up with answers. They are “Sanxing” the 3 Star Gods. In my picture above, the first figure, from the left is Lu Sing, who wears the ornate head dress. He is the deity of prosperity and gives guidance in matters of career, social status and fortune. The next figure, with bulbous forehead and holding a peach in one hand is Shou Xing. The peach represents immortality. He knows how long every human being will live. He carries a gourd, attached to a dragonhead staff, that holds the elixir of life. The last figure is Fu Xing, auspiciously associated with the planet Jupiter and considered the personification of good fortune. He is generally depicted in scholar's dress, holding a scroll, on which is sometimes written the character "Fu". He may also be seen holding a child, or surrounded by children. Mine also has a crane at his feet.

Knowing the meaning behind the sculptures deepens their effect. May they always stand together for the highest good.

Foreigner Gives Way To Friend

I had wanted to be entertained with some laughter before bed, so planned to watch the opening dialogue of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. The TV opened on the Public Broadcasting Channel, where I sometimes go to watch the news. The documentary Vietnam, by Ken Burns was playing on PBS. Immediately the film mesmerized me. Although thinking, "no jokes here, not funny," I could not turn away.
There are ten segments to the 18 hour broadcast.

On Dec. 1, 1969, my senior year in high school in Washington DC, the United States held its first military draft lottery of the war. It gave young men a random number corresponding to birthdays—366 per year. Those with lower numbers were called first and told to report to induction centers where they could be ordered into active duty and possibly sent to fight in Vietnam . When the draft started I was too young, but by 1971 I received a draft number 105.

In 1970, when I finished high school I wore my hair long, occasionally smoked pot and considered myself a hippie. I opposed the war in Vietnam. In 1971, my first year at University, I became a member of the Baha'i Faith. The teachings required members to obey their government, but in case of war to serve as a non-combatant, such as medic. The summer of 1972 at an enlistment center in DC, I registered as contentious objector. Thankfully, the war wound down and ended shortly after. I felt a clean conscience, knowing I would not evade duty even though the war repelled me.

The period of war gave rise to stark divisions in America. I knew almost nothing of Vietnam or its people. The slogan "Make love not war" was a common counter-culture refrain on the street. I was against the military/industrial complex.

In 2008 I traveled to Vietnam and spent almost a month, going overland from Saigon (now called Ho Chi Minh City) in the south to the northern capital of Hanoi. I made some close friends and felt warmth among the people, despite being American. ( See my blog post : Beauty and Adventure ).

The next year I went back. ( Mister, What Are You Looking For? )

The documentary brings up many emotions for me. Having been to Vietnam and come to love its people, I can't imagine warring with them.






Mankind is one family. Foreigner gives way to friend when we seek to understand and put aside differences in favor of the stronger bonds of unity.

Whirling Streets

I traveled almost half way around the world to return home to Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, from Vietnam. The trip took about 24 hours—Saigon to Tokyo to Salt Lake City and then to Santa Fe. I am appreciating the clean air, majestic spaces, relative quiet, and urbane modernity of home. Yet, I miss my friends in the Far East and being in the flux of Asian life.
All humanity is coexisting simultaneously on this planet. Every human activity is occurring at the same moment somewhere: sleeping, eating, working, charity, thievery, sex, birth, death, laughter, argument, et al. Humans are a family, but have great variation in customs, language and ethnicity. Wherever I go, the warmth of a smile and loving look is universally recognized and welcome.
At times I have felt lost and bewildered, almost insane in unfamiliar surroundings. But then, I choose to enjoy the mind-bending experience of seeing life as child; vulnerable, and with innocent, fresh eyes. For example, last Sunday afternoon in Saigon, I took a long walk through the whirling streets and arrived at the city zoo. It is humble by many standards, and does not have the assortment of animals or facilities of many other zoos. I paid my entrance fee, began walking along shady pathways and came to elephants. A small crowd was gathered, and occasionally an animal extended its trunk to grab a sugar cane someone had offered. I took pictures, trying to capture both human and elephant together. Slowly, I wandered around, viewing exhibits. Seeing the hippopotamus reminded me of when I saw them in the wild on Safari in Tanzania last year. I came to a bandstand area where a crowd was gathered watching circus performers. A man onstage climbed on top of an assortment of cylinders and teetered precariously, then an assistant handed him a small sword which he held in his mouth, then took a longer sword and balanced that on the tip of the small one. Next, a beautiful young woman in a tight red costume walked a tightrope, standing on her head, doing splits, and eventually placing a ladder on the rope, climbed up two rungs, then did the sword trick with two swords balanced tip to tip from her mouth. Music played, children ran around in glee, and every time someone spoke, I could not understand a word. As I left the zoo, I had the distinct feeling of being lost in another world, but not caring. The elements played on my mind like a dream and moments flowed in a stream of consciousness that left me dizzy and euphoric.

Woven Together Into Eternity

Occasionally, the languid and hot moments in Vietnam seem woven together into an eternity. After two weeks here, a sense of interminable time, and even malaise, surprises me. It is something I have experienced as a traveler, but only in rare, fleeting instances.
Many of the local people in Hoi An stop and simply lay down on the floor where they are at mid-day, and then rest until about 2PM. The heat and jungle climate simply drags me down, and I too rest during the afternoons. My routine is that after the siesta I go to a café and drink a coffee ice shake. A few days of seeing the same people gives opportunities to make friends. The three questions Vietnamese people ask foreigners most often are: Where are you from? How old are you? Are you married?
Today I invited a young woman who works at the café to model for me. She is pretty, and in her broken English complained about her work not giving her enough, so I offered her 20.00 to pose for two hours in traditional dress, which is what she makes in four days normally. Her friend hearing this, exclaimed, “How about me?





The last two days I have been up at 5 AM and rode my bicycle to the local fish market to watch as local fishermen bring in their hauls to give over to the women gathered in throngs at the pier. It is quite a spectacle of sights, sounds, and smells. Tons of fish trade hands. I’ve seen tuna, mackerel, red snapper, shark, many varieties I do not know, crabs, squid, eel, and more. There is jostling and bickering as everyone is animated and trying to get the best deal. Other vendors are there setting up, including women selling live chickens, vegetable and fruit sellers and even ladies with baskets full of live frogs. I get in the midst of it all and take my pictures. Sometimes someone will stop and pose for me a moment, and I give them money. That can be dangerous though, because eager ladies wanting to pose can mob me. Nobody is dressed fashionably, just working women in work clothes, but what I am looking for is authenticity, not façade . . . and so this genuine place without pretense is perfect for finding what I seek.

Mister, what are you looking for?

Living in THE DREAM, where flux is ever present is wonderful, and also full of surprise. I should have known better than to show up at the Bangkok, Thailand, airport without a proper visa for entry into Vietnam. I was turned away. Fortunately, I went to the Vietnamese embassy in Bangkok, paid extra, and received an approved visa the same day—so I only stayed an extra night in Thailand. I forgot that Vietnam is one of the countries where a visa cannot be obtained at the airport upon arrival.


When I arrived in Saigon, I needed money, so went to an ATM, but forgot the exchange rate. I thought 20,000 would be a good amount, but the machine said I had to choose 50,000. I got the 50,000 and quickly discovered it was worth $2.85. Meanwhile, my bank charges $5.00 for foreign ATM transactions. I went back and got 1,000,000 dong; about $57.00.

Fortunately, I am okay with chaos in my life . . . otherwise by now I would be frazzled, especially after losing my iPhone in the motorcycle choked streets during a rickshaw ride. 

I am getting good photographs and find people generally open and warm, although as a foreigner, I am often seen as a wealthy person and invited to spend money; Vietnam is a country with one foot in poverty and the other climbing toward affluence. Sometimes in the crowded markets, women grab me forcibly and literally pull me into their stalls, saying, “Mister, what are you looking for?”

After Saigon, I arrived in Hoi An a few days ago, and it is lovely. If not for the heat and sweating so much, I would be out all day long exploring. Amazingly, this town has over 400 tailor shops. It is known internationally as a place to get clothes custom made for prices less than ordinary clothes cost elsewhere.

I am surprised how many people remember me from my visit here last year. I have already been motorcycling with a new friend who showed me around while I looked at houses and shops for rent. It is funny, but when I tell people I am an artist, they act surprised because I do not have long hair. Another thing is how often I am told, “You are a handsome man.” I like it, although maybe it is perhaps an often used compliment.

Time And Space In Dream

What happens to time and space in dreams? For me, it seems youthfulness exists in dreaming because events occur that are not bound by physical law. All sorts of fantastic actions occur in dreams, and the occurrences are effortlessly woven together into a symphony of experience.
THE DREAM has provided me with a symphony of experiences that make me feel I have stepped beyond the ordinary into magic. Within a day of arriving in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, I found myself living on a Chinese junk, a flat-bottomed sail boat, with 10 other international travelers and five crew, touring Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The boat cruised very quietly and with hardly a stir over placid water in a bay among dense clusters of 1,969 limestone monolithic islands, each topped with thick jungle vegetation. The islands rise spectacularly from the ocean and several are hollow, with enormous caves that we explored. My sleeping cabin was all wood, and cozy, and meals were served on white linen with delicious food. I felt transported by the beauty of my surroundings. Then it was back to bustling Hanoi, which actually intimidated me with its liveliness. The streets are small and teem with life. Often, sidewalks are impassable because they are being repaired with new stone, or are crammed with parked motorbikes, or street vendors are cooking food and customers are sprawled about, sitting at stools and eating. Traffic is ceaseless and whirls by; mostly people on motorbikes, frequently tooting horns. Small shops, eateries and hotels of every description are crammed together wall-to-wall, and often someone is out front, begging passersby to come inside. I became lost several times and could not understand the Vietnamese street names. In the end, I bought some artwork and became an ingredient in the big bubbling-over pot that is Hanoi.

Next, I flew to Danang, mid-way on the eastern coast of Vietnam and then took a one-hour taxi ride to Hoi An, a well preserved and quaint town of about 80,000 inhabitants that is famous for custom manufactured clothing. Incredibly, over 500 tailor shops thrive here. I have never seen anything like it. I have had two suits and 7 shirts made. Shopkeepers take measurements one day, and the next day, your custom ordered clothing arrives. It is all expertly handled with a wide assortment fine materials to choose from. The prices are so low, and quality so good that everyone is smiling in the end. Hoi An is relaxed and scenic as well. I have strolled around for hours, photographing and making friends with locals. Yesterday, a friend and I went swimming at a marvelous beach in DaNang. Hardly anyone was there except for some surfers and a handful of locals selling small things along the shore. We visited Marble Mountain, where generations of sculptors have been making carvings from marble. The quality is excellent and again, I ended up buying artwork for investment and resale in the USA. My friend helped me get the best prices.
Tomorrow, I return to Saigon for three days, and then I am off to an international Baha’i conference in Kuala Lampur, Malaysia.

Beauty And Adventure

The day I left Thailand, its high court decided to make the prime minister step down, and banned him and his cronies from politics for five years. This is what the 50,000 protestors occupying the Bangkok airport wanted, and they celebrated, announcing the re-opening of normal activities. Meanwhile, I negotiated through the troublesome situation and managed to arrive in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), only a day late.
Immediately I began finding friends. The evening I arrived, two young security guards at my hotel caught sight of me in my safari hat and one called out to me with a big smile, saying “hey cowboy!” They beckoned me to sit between them and one put his hand on my knee while the other massaged my back and we talked. The next day I found myself on a motorcycle behind Hang, a woman who sells handmade items in street markets. THE DREAM brought us together to become friends. She has acted as my agent while I bought lacquered boxes, silk clothing and carved wooden objects for resale in the USA. Since then, we have spent hours each day together, shared meals, gone dancing several times and one day, she posed in traditional Vietnamese silk dresses while I photographed.
People for the most part are eager for contact, and at least in the cities, speak some English. Many people are street vendors or tourist industry employees and must communicate, at least enough to say, “Hey mister, what are you looking for?” Mostly, street stalls are worked by women and often the younger ones are quite forward. I have had my arm grabbed and been pulled into stalls by smiling ladies who want me to buy something or other.

Vietnam is one of the few socialistic nations on earth but you would not know it. A raging free market thrives everywhere. The Viatnamese currency is in dong. One dollar is worth 16,750 dong. So, at an atm machine I can be dispensed two milion dong at once. It is tricky, especialy since I do not see perfectly well without reading glasses, and several times I have given over a big note, not reading all the zero's. In a restaurant, when the bill was 40,000 dong, I gave a 500,000 dong note, thinking it was 50,000. Fortunately, the correct change came back, but I was surprised. This has happened more than once and now I am very careful.
It seems there is no lack of commerce or business. I have never been anywhere that had so many motorcycles in the streets. Actually, it is good since fuel is saved and streets are less crowded with cars.
My brother Wade lives in the Washington DC area with his Vietnamese wife of three years, Huong, and their one year old son. Today I am going from Saigon to Nha Trang, a city of 500,000, famous for beautiful beaches on a gorgeous bay. I will visit with Huong’s family, especially Trinh, a young woman who speaks fluent English.
I need to extend my visa which expires December 19. Vietnam is full of beauty and adventure, and I want more time here. Places in the north, like Hanoi, Hoi An, Halong Bay and Saba beckon.