Dog. Cat. Porcupine. Deer.
The ‘Lonely Planet’ Guidebook describes the Vietnamese people as “fiercly omnivorous,” and I couldn’t think of a more apt description. We are not uploading photos so I can’t illustrate this post properly but today we took numerous photos of a skinned pig’s head, pig’s feet, live goats tied to a back of a motorbike, same with live chickens in a mesh cage, pigs tied in tortuous ways, the list goes on.
Greetings from Vietnam, the most unkosher place on the planet (kosher-keepers, never, ever come here, unless you plan on packing a month’s supply of canned tuna). My recent thoughts of beginning to eat meat again all flew out the window today, and even my husband, who pretty much eats everything, was beginning to have second thoughts today.
We are traveling in Vietnam for a month. We only got here three days ago, and already we have been seduced by the food; the freshness of it, the sight of it in the market, the overabundance of vegetables so fresh, you can tell they were just picked before market. I loved seeing one vendor thread some kind of cord through the core of a cabbage; one man walked away carrying three in one hand, dangling by said cord. But then there are the dead animals. So many cuts of meat you can’t recognize. And a bowl of blood. Yes, seriously.
Yesterday we passed a slew of restaurants, that had dead carcasses hanging from hooks, one after the other. Each restaurant had its own dead animals, usually a chicken, deer, duck, etc. What can I say but ‘ewwwwww.’
I thought I might be tempted to eat meat here, but so far, no go. The Vietnamese don’t understand what vegetarian means. Today our guide told me a banana leaf had sticky rice and green beans wrapped inside it, so I bought one. But when I started eating it, he acknowledged there was also a bit of pork. “Just a little, no big deal,” he said, or something like it. I ate around it, and realized when one comes to a country like this, this is what you must deal with. I didn’t care that it was unkosher, I cared it was meat at all. And that it very well could have been the meat I had seen that morning.
Perhaps the weirdest thing was when our guide bought a live chicken. He carried it by its feet, tied up tightly, and walked back to the van. He then got a plastic bag to put it in, cutting out a small whole for the head. We spent another six hours at least about and around, and I knew that chicken was in the back of the van the entire day. Several times, my husband and I wondered how the chicken was doing, whether it knew it would die at the end of the day.
I guess the point of this post is — (besides just rambling all of these new impressions that come along with travel to amazing places) is this: there is something admirable in how the Vietnamese see their food in all of its states, and eat it anyway. The animals are treated well when they’re alive, but once their fate is sealed, that’s it. They get carted away while still alive in a bag, or on the back of a motorbike.