Bacon and Eggs on Mars?

[Vung Tau, 2/14/25]

Yesterday, I bought 12 brown eggs for $1.30. Paying that, I would be lucky to get two eggs in the USA. Here, you can also eat a very good noodle or rice meal for less than $1.50. Chatting with the grocer, I found out she had a sister-in-law living in Melbourne. Moaning about high prices there, this woman regretted emigrating, but her Australia born kids would have a near impossible time adjusting to Vietnam. They’re Vegemite and rugby hooked Aussies who demand vast spaces, not streets swarming with strangers.

That she can run a grocery within walking distance of the wet market is telling. Neighbors don’t mind paying a slight markup for the convenience. There’s also no law designating this street a residence area. That’s why there’s also a butcher, plus a dozen restaurants. Buying from her, they’ve become her friends.

I’ve mentioned an alley cafe run by a septuagenarian. It turns out she’s only 65. Without a stove, coffee machine or running water, she’s operated her business for 35 years.

“Your customers must be regulars!”

“I served them when they were young. I was only 30 when I started this. Now, I’m old,” she grinned.

Behind her were flames flickering in the semi dark from an earthen vessel squatting on the floor. It burnt wood, plus a stick of bamboo that had just popped. Fancier cafes advertise “machine made coffee,” but she serves cups crowned by tin filters. It’s as much a symbol of 20th century Vietnam as the cyclo, now also being phased out. Cà phê phin and xích lô are too slow for those trying to catch up with the West.

On her barely whitewashed wall is a shelf altar with two Chinese deities, the Lord of Wealth and Lord of the Land. From a blue and white vase jut chrysanthemum sprigs with their golden blooms. Five crimson cups are set out for these Taoist lords. In Vietnam, they grossly outnumber Jesuses and Buddhas. At Đất Đỏ’s main market, I saw a dozen of each at a single shrine. The lone Guanyin betrayed the persistence of Goddess worship. Land, mother and daily survival icons are constant presences here.

Spirits are everywhere. Roadside shrines for unnamed accident victims may have incense sticks for anyone to light. In Thắng Hải, I stumbled upon a dozen unmarked graves, built by locals. Near the ocean, they faced a shrine to the feared whale, which Vietnamese call cá ông, or sir fish. During the Boat People era, corpses routinely washed up on shore, so these concrete and chipped rock graves with their incense sticks must be for those unfortunates. Though unrecognizable, they were still honored with proper burials. Vung Tau fishermen used to return nearly each day with escapees fished from the ocean.

People so religious, or superstitious, if you will, are the worst fit for Godless Marxism. Viet soldiers on both sides of the Vietnam War only fought for their nation. North Vietnam’s slogan was “Fight America, Save the Nation.” South Vietnam’s, “Nation Above All.” All permutations of Marxism are Jewish blessings you’re free to embrace, though. Don’t let me sour or curb your ideology.

The owner of the café on General Uprising is Buddhist, but his wife is Catholic. My parents are also of two faiths. Are you polyfaithful or just bicurious? How many religious icons do you have in your leather whip and adult diaper dungeon?

Tây Ninh based Cao Daism worships Buddha, Confucius, Laozi, General Guan Yu, poet Li Bai and Jesus, etc. In Châu Đốc, I ran into Saint Martin, my patron, at a tiny pharmacy, but next to him were several Maneki-nekos. A fat one had four deputies. With its beckoning paw, the Japanese cat brings customers. Ideologically tolerant or incoherent, Viets can’t be Marxists.

On Vietnamese buses, drivers are free to display their gods and goddesses. Many have even set up altars with flowers and incense sticks.

The God of Wealth’s ubiquity isn’t so much about greed, but fear of starvation. Viets older than 35 remember it well. I’ve spoken about how eating is a metaphor for nearly everything. A thriving business eats customers, ăn khách. A phoenix, starved, eats chicken shit.

There’s a Nam Cao classic, “Poverty,” which has a mother feeding her starving kids slops meant for pigs, cám, disguised as a sweet, watery treat known as chè. The family’s rare rice grains are reserved for her sick husband. Buying food on credit, she’s hounded and cursed by creditors. Knowing he won’t recover, the husband decides to hang himself. This 1937 story is particularly resonant because its dialogs are so bitterly true. There’s, of course, that darkest humor Viets are adroit at.

Dishing up swill, the mother chirps, “Wowee! Ya’al tittering like a mad lady! Go ahead and feast until you get sick. I only fear you’ll have trouble swallowing, my children.”

Over two years in Vung Tau, I only saw one person with a real book. She was reading Nam Cao. Americans aren’t reading their masters, either. A much dumbed down world will have no choice but to wise up, or die clutching their dead cellphones.

In Tân Thành, a city with many churches, I spotted this sign at a house, “BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO KEEP SILENT OR TURN THEIR MACHINES OFF, FOR THEY WILL HEAR GOD’S VOICE.” At Bún Chả Hồ Tây in Vung Tau, there was a message urging diners to turn off their phones, so they could talk to each other, “like in the old days.” After a recent renovation, that sign has been removed.

Though Trump pushed Jewjabs and now AI, he’s voted in by those already marginalized in an Elon Musk, Sam Altman and Larry Ellison world. Though they have a much better chance of ending up in an unmarked grave on this earth, many think they’re going to Mars!

On 8/28/20, Trump crowed, “We will launch a new age of American Ambition in Space. America will land the first WOMAN on the moon—and the United States will be the first nation to plant its flag on Mars.”

On 1/20/25, Trump sounded even better, “We will pursue our manifest destiny into the stars, launching American astronauts to plant the Stars and Stripes on the planet Mars.”

Bacon, eggs and toilet paper won’t be too cheap up that way, so you better save up. I’d rather walk barefoot on this planet still filled with the loveliest sights and sounds. You won’t see anything, though, if you don’t look up.

[Tân Thành, 2/11/25]

[Tân Thành, 2/11/25]

[Tân Thành, 2/11/25]

[Tân Thành, 2/11/25]