vendor blues

The thing about a place as poor as Vietnam (and it IS poor) is that all good times here are followed by some unshakable guilt. Sometimes the begging can push you to insane anger and you want to yell but you can't. Yesterday, after a week of almost constant travel south, we arrived on the lovely beaches of Nha Trang. (after hanging out with so many Europeans this past week, I've taken to using the word 'lovely'.) Before even finding a hotel, we threw our bags on the beach and lied down. A long, exalted "finally...." followed. Paradise after a week of grey skies and rain. A few minutes of relaxation later, one of the many cone-bamboo hatted Vietnamese women came to us with a box of cigarettes, lights and drinks. We bought some beers, had some laughs and took her adorable picture. And she left on time. This was a big mistake. For the next 20 minutes, the vendors formed a single-file line behind us and came up, 1 by 1, selling the exact same postcards, sunglasses, snacks, etc. It doesn't matter that we're wearing sunglasses, eating and drinking- they still come.

"sir, sir, sir, happy new year, help me, sir, help me, hard life, sir."

We were polite to the first 5, then we had to laugh as they continued the procession. So we laughed until finally we had to just refuse looking at them. I hate treating people like this, but they push you until it's the only option. We'd been looking forward to this ocean-view for a long time, but they wouldn't let us look ahead. But you can't be angry. They lie about all the prices, but they're not lying about the 'hard life.'