Ho Chi Minh City

Summer and it’s time for the Great American Trust Fund Indochina Tour. Baggy cargo shorts and sandals, backpacks, and Macbooks. My gramps said that in ’66 it was the same, except instead of cellphones and laptops it was cameras and transistor radios. “Always, though, they don’t want to walk, Americans hate walking. That’s why you make good money with a tuk-tuk. Always busy.”

His English was perfect, but he told me he liked to fuck with the Americans by speaking a strange version of river pidgin. “Jolly jolly, plenty! You come ridee, twenty cash!” he’d laugh. “They’d start speaking it too,”

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15 thoughts on “Ho Chi Minh City

  1. Gullible Americans on the world stage… yep, I’ve seen it too many times. Tourists are idiots most of the time. But, then again, I make a killing selling junk to them in the summer months so who am I to argue. Love your story, and Gramps got it, and got it well!

Don't just stand there.