Privileged position
In the small tourist-inspired province of Ninh Binh we took a 1 hour and 30 minute boat ride. As an introduction to the boat ride, our resident director said that the person limit was 2 foreigners per boat and 6 Vietnamese per boat. Of course I thought he was joking, but he wasn't. So we carefully boarded the boat, I in my child-size cai non and my roommate Claire in her grass-woven baseball cap, while those of Vietnamese origin piled into their less comfortable container. I was excited because I knew a little Vietnamese and our female rower knew a little English. We chatted a bit in our broken languages, smiling and laughing when the barrier was too apparent. A woman who she said was her mother smiled broadly as she placed a large cloth bundle into our boat. 1/4 of the way through the journey I sympathetically asked our rower in Vietnamese if she was tired. She said she was a little, then timidly told me to look at the scenery. It was magnificent floating between towering green mountains which reached majestically up to the sky. I inhaled the tranquil air and smiled contentedly. I felt close to the rower and close to the mountains. We rowed past bunches of ducks and underneath dripping caverns. When we reached the point of turning around a woman rowed up in a separate boat, hoping to sell some of her snacks. I asked our rower if I could buy her a drink, thinking that she would appreciate such an offer and she accepted. On our return, we rowed back through the cave over water and our rower stopped again. She unwrapped the cloth bundle her mother had deposited and asked us to buy a tablecloth. Claire and I were not interested so we declined. She lowered the price, and we persisted in our rejection. Then she loudly bundled up her wares, mumbling agitatedly all the while. There was no more smiling and laughing, just one of the most uncomfortable silences I have ever experienced. Then at the end of the ride, she called to us and pointed at her chest and said "Tip".
The turn on the boat ride was a very sad moment for me, but I know people have to make a living. And I realize that as an American I am viewed as a person of privilege. Because here I am. It's funny to think that the mere purchase of that tablecloth, which is a totally trivial object to me, would have made such a difference for her. $10 is nothing to me, but to the people here its a living.
The turn on the boat ride was a very sad moment for me, but I know people have to make a living. And I realize that as an American I am viewed as a person of privilege. Because here I am. It's funny to think that the mere purchase of that tablecloth, which is a totally trivial object to me, would have made such a difference for her. $10 is nothing to me, but to the people here its a living.