What if you get mugged?

by Dipika Aranha (India)

A leap into the unknown Vietnam

“Think again, what if you get mugged?” they said. “Aren’t any of your friends going with you?”. Being born in an Indian middle-class family only meant one thing – having reservations about anything and everything. Doing things alone as a woman was almost taboo. But I was determined to do this, there was no turning back. This was expected of a protective Indian family – emotional blackmail. All those desi sitcoms started airing in my house for real with pressure building up and real characters trying to dissuade me from traveling solo. “What is wrong with everybody?”, I screeched till I almost choked up. “I’m not going to war” “But you don’t speak the language.”, said my mother in a calm voice. “Err that’s why we have Google Translate?” I smirked. “It’s just a short holiday. Tickets are booked. The visa has come through so can someone, anyone please be excited for me” Everybody left my room. The muttering continued for a few minutes and faded. They made peace – with the thought of me traveling alone. I was finally going to Vietnam. I took that much awaited flight Mumbai- Singapore-Ho Chi Minh City the following week. It was a nippy December afternoon. First leg completed. As I board the second flight, much to my horror, practically everyone on board had a ‘partner’. Almost like it was a Honeymooners’ Special. I looked more like an eye sore on an already turbulent flight – the only Indian solo lady traveler. As the plane landed, everything around me looked unfamiliar except a rectangular placard with my name written on it. ‘Ms. Dipika’ it read. With a sigh of relief I ran up to the gentleman who greeted me and took me to the Immigration Counter. After a long wait I managed to get my documents stamped by the officials. Theu, the Visa assistant, was fluent in English and guided me to the local sim card counter. Once my sim card was sorted, I arranged for a car to my hotel. I was excited and nervous about treading into the unknown. Stepping out of the airport felt like… wait a minute. What kind of a holiday did I sign up for? The sights, sounds, smells, crowds… it felt like being back in Mumbai. The sensory inundation was quite overwhelming. But at first sight it was a melting pot of character and taste – a place that was repeatedly invaded and pillaged but one that retained its tradition, food and culture. “Think again, you might get mugged”, my family’s warnings resounded in my head. I hugged my handbag for dear life. To add to my fear were those few videos that recorded anecdotes of phone snatching and wallet thefts. I began to visualize Ho Chi Minh City as being unsafe. But the urge to explore the place and debunk these stories is what drove me there. I was quite unsettled until I reached my hotel at 7pm. Nguyen Shack, Saigon – a quirky boutique hotel in the heart of the city – was my safe haven for two nights. The next day at the reception I was drawn to a peculiar sight. There were at least 5 rows of huge glass canisters with some liquid filled to the brim. Each of these had something floating in it. I walked up to these eerie shelves. Each had a card next to it citing health benefits. Tam, the Manager, walks up to me with a syringe in hand and a tiny shot glass. I panic wondering if I’m going to be injected next and then mugged. A second glance and I notice there is no needle on that syringe. “What is this for?” I sheepishly ask. Tam smiles and gestures in broken English “Ma’am you try this liquid? It is Rice wine - very potent liqueur. 50% alcohol and famous our City. We have various herbs and spices soaked in Rice Wine. You choose and with this syringe I’ll take 10 ml for you try.“ I point out to a concoction. He then draws the liquid with the syringe and fills up the shot glass with cinnamon infused rice wine. A few sips, some friendly banter and my anxiety of the unknown just dissipates.