Colonialist Advertisements

On a recent business trip in country, I stayed at a very nice hotel. The decor was French colonial, very tasteful. However, some of the artwork in the hotel was off-putting at best, offensive at worst. The reaction of my Vietnamese coworker was surprising to me, though.

So look at this ad. Do you see what I see?

king of the world

I see a white man (and he’s dressed in white, as if to underscore his race), prominently strutting, as “natives” toil.

Look at the details of the Vietnamese people’s faces. What’s wrong with this picture?

hint: Vietnamese people do not look like this.

It’s as if the illustrator went out of his way to make the Vietnamese people more “other.”

And here’s another one. This one is a little more subtle, but the message is still clear:

All of the servers are Vietnamese, and all of the servees are European.

I showed these to my wife, who was as horrified as I was. She asked what the Vietnamese people though of them. I happened to be traveling with a locally-employed staff member, so when I had the chance later that day, I showed him the photos that I took of the ads. He didn’t seem to have a strong reaction, so I asked if he thought they were racist, or colonialist, or simply offensive. He thought a moment, and told me that he understood the message of the advertisement, and intellectually agreed that it wasn’t appropriate, but he wasn’t offended by it.

I told him that if such an advertisement appeared in China, there would be a very strong reaction by the government. There would possibly be economic sanctions on the hotel that posted them. Why not in Vietnam? I asked. Vietnam has an even more recent history of colonialism than China does, and fought a bitter war to gain its independence. Wouldn’t the country want to put that painful period of humiliation behind it, and certainly not glorify it in advertisements for a hotel?

He seemed bemused, and hinted that I was thinking too much. He said that Vietnamese people have more important things to worry about, implying I was overreacting. He asked how many Vietnamese guests we saw in the hotel. I had to admit that he was the only one. So, he said, maybe the artwork is aimed at foreigners.

But that’s the point! I countered. Why would the Vietnamese people not have a problem with glorifying colonialism to the colonists?

He conceded my point, but maintained that it didn’t bother him. He said that he knows about Vietnam’s colonial past, knows that it was an unpleasant period in his country’s history, but he didn’t think the symbolism of the ad was worth getting upset about.

Maybe he doesn’t want to waste time and energy re-fighting a fight that his people won.

I guess he is OK with us foreigners dwelling in the past. Meanwhile, the Vietnamese people know who won in the end.

My coffee guy

Just down the street from the consulate, a young guy has set up a small coffee shop in an alley. He makes an iced coffee that one of the officers here has named “crack cocaine.” It’s delicious. Of course, if you put sweetened condensed milk in anything, it will taste great. But I’ve had him make me an iced coffee without any milk in it, and it’s still good.

Although Vietnam produces a lot of coffee, most of it isn’t a high quality variety. In order to cover up some of the bitterness, a lot of beans are treated with various flavorings, including cocoa. But the stuff that this guy sells is different. It’s a good variety, and it isn’t doctored up.

liquid deliciousness

On a whim, I asked if he sold beans. He speaks good “coffee shop English:” he can take your order in English without any problems. But my request pushed him out of his comfort zone. So I switched to Vietnamese and asked again. He nodded immediately, and asked how much I wanted to buy. He charges VNĐ200,000 per kilo, which is less than $5 per pound. So I asked for a pound.

out comes the huge bag of beans

measuring out exactly 500 grams

pouring my beans into a to-go bag

He seemed a little surprised when I told him not to grind the beans for me. They grind the beans to a powder here, and brew it with what they call a “phin.” Since I use a French press, I need a coarser grind. I brought the beans home, ground them up and brewed a pot.

Delicious! It isn’t the best blend I’ve ever had, but it’s much better than the sludge that they sell on the street here, and a it’s great way to start my mornings in Vietnam.

Sunrise over Vietnam (and Cambodia)

When I was on a survey trip to the Mekong Delta last week, I stayed one night in a hotel that sits on the bank of the river that separates Vietnam and Cambodia.

The (very) little town of Châu Đốc.

I was awakened at 4:30am by the call to prayer from a nearby mosque (thanks for nothing, guys), and since I was up anyway, I took the opportunity to do a time-lapse video of the sunrise.

America’s soft power is strong

Traveling on a survey trip in the countryside is rewarding in many ways. When you live in a big city, it’s easy to forget that most people in the country don’t enjoy a high standard of living.

Yesterday I had two heartwarming interactions with Vietnamese people. The first was in a very small town in the Mekong Delta. We got a little lost, and were trying to figure out what to do. While we were standing on the side of the road, a young man walked up to me and struck up a conversation in English.

As a matter of principle, I like to engage with people, especially with students. You never know who kids will grow up to be. I’d love to be the American that a future leader remembers talking to, way back when. It’s also good for America when people have a favorable impression of us.

Anyway, this young man said he was 16, and asked where I was from. When I told him I was from America, his face lit up. He was clearly delighted to be talking with an American. His English wasn’t very good, but we managed a brief conversation. I admired his courage to approach a foreigner and try using a language that he was just starting to learn. I don’t think I am that brave.

The other interaction happened later that night, in town. We were on he street, when a small child, about 3 years old, walked by with his mom. With the encouragement of his mother, he smiled, waved, and called out “Hello!” to me. He didn’t speak any English, but he wasn’t self-conscious or shy, he trotted over to me and gave me a high-five.

I’ve had interactions like that in other countries. But Americans seem to enjoy especially high favorability among the Vietnamese people, even (or maybe especially) in rural parts of the country. In the eyes of many people here, America never wasn’t “great.”

My day has been stranger than yours.

A guy just tried to sell me a Vietnamese lottery ticket while I was sitting in the car on a ferry crossing a river. When I got of bed this morning, I did not think that this would happen today.

Vietnam has finally given me a strange experience to match the weirdness that I saw in China. And the day isn’t over yet.