Living Behind Closed Doors | Vietnam

One misstep and it shatters the entire fragile aesthetic we have worked so long and hard to create. 

Over Christmas in 2016 my family took a trip to Seattle and Portland. There was amazing vegan food, cool museums, and lots of interesting places to visit. I often smile at those memories and cherish that time. However, one memory continues to scratch against all the others and create this jarring and painful thought. It's the homeless population in Seattle. I've visited New York City and other large cities before so I was no stranger to the concept of homelessness, especially in a city. But these homeless people were different. They seemed scary. I didn't feel safe. It seemed as though I needed to be very careful and I was very afraid to talk to them. That made me feel even worse. The trip was wonderful. Except this one memory. It continues to poke a hole in my perfect vision of Seattle.

I came to Vietnam with a hazy vision of their culture, their food, and their way of life. It's started to defog itself like my glasses in the morning after I wake up. One thing I've realized is that there are very few boxes. There are very few restrictions. Everything, and maybe too much, is out in the open for you to see, smell, hear, and experience.

In America we love living in boxes. We get in our car, go to the store, get back in our car, and return home. We walk to a restaurant, sit down and eat, and walk back. We get dressed up, go out, and come home. All to stay in our box. We don't want to be exposed to too much behind the scenes. We don't want to truly know what's behind our consumption. Why would we stop and think about where Target gets all of its inventory? Why would we think about where our fried chicken came from? Why would we think about how the employees at our favorite restaurant are treated? We don't want that burden of opening our doors. The doors are too heavy. Or maybe the doors are too fragile.

In Vietnam everything and nothing has its place. It's true that there are boxes and societal norms that people here also follow. But they do so with open doors. For my groceries I visit the market by my house. It is in a concrete structure with motorbikes driving through and has no doors. There is no air conditioning or even many fans. There are stands with fruits and vegetables. There is tofu in tubs of water they pull out and weigh. There are flies around some of the food. There are live fish in tubs. I even saw one woman guiding a live fish along the wet ground to bring to another tub. There is raw meat on tables sitting out in the open. There are no gloves, sanitary regulations, doors, or anything resembling cleanliness. Yet I buy my food from there and love it. Oh, and how could I forget about the man selling frogs. Yes, frogs. I watched him bang live frogs on a stone until they died.

When you take a stroll down the street you'll find a myriad of fascinating scenes. You'll see women cooking meat on skewers over homemade grills. You'll see people making pho and grabbing your noodles with their hands sans gloves. You see ducks hanging on their glass windows to entice you in. Where do they get all of their ingredients? If you stay seated at a street place long enough you'll see a motorbike pull up with pounds of leaves, veggies, tofu, whole ducks, and lots of rice noodles. Although I can't eat at most of these places, there is something so refreshing to me about the whole experience. It's not clean. It's not shiny. And it's certainly not kept in a box.

What would happen if Americans saw someone slapping our meat to death? What would happen if a woman made your sandwich with no gloves while also helping to wash the dishes outside with soap and some water from a hose? What would happen if we had to take our shoes off when we entered buildings and walked around barefoot? In America, people would find it appalling and ludicrous. In Vietnam they find it normal.

If there's one thing I've learned form travel it's that there are so many different ways to live life. And no one way is the right one. But I do find a strong attraction to a culture who isn't afraid to fling open their doors and be themselves. A people who aren't afraid to sit down or walk around with their shirt half lifted because it's so hot. And a people who aren't afraid to carry mirrors, luggage, food, gas, and giant water jugs on the back of their motorbikes. The aesthetic isn't fragile, it's real. Vietnam's doors are surely open. Maybe living with open doors wouldn't be so bad after all.