Last year, while I was wandering Saigon alone, a little girl of 14 paused in a happy conversation with her sister to pick me for a mark. She put on her dough eyes in a fraction of a second and told me how her baby sister is sick and needs milk. Now even I'm not that stupid--but why the hell not? She lead me into a supermall (a shock after the semi 3rd world streets) and had me buy--no, not the large one, I'd put my foot down--a small can of powdered formula. She will return it for cash and I got some postcards and a tour of the city. Not the most responsible kind of tourism, but everyone's happy.
Yesterday I was picked out by a living relic at the war museum. He walked into a landmine in 1977 and I can only imagine him being flown through the air as his arms, leg and eye were blown to bits (try faking that story). He sat me down and shook--well, had me shake his stub--and we talked for a while. They always want to know where you are from, etc etc, and in just a few seconds you know what is going to happen and its too late to stop it. I bought a book I didn't want for 200,000 dong--wouldn't want it any other way.
Added note: Haven't opened the book until just this week. Found that it's just a sad copy. The cover is in good shape, but all the pages were printed off an old xerox machine--actually copied from a copy, smeared and sometimes not centered or missing the few last lines. But I stand by my original sentiments--I'm glad I gave him the money, and the book isn't amazingly hard to read.
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