Locked, Stocked, and No Smoking Barrels
Lockdown in HCMC was lush.
Some readers told me they were interested to hear about my experience of lockdown in Ho Chi Minh City. And since this newsletter is called Val Thinks, I had a think about it and came up with what you’re about to read in this newsletter.
Buckle up dear readers. Here’s my thought about life in lockdown in the land of the not-so-free.
First, some dates:
May 27: Restaurants closed for dine-in in Ho Chi Minh City
July 9: Only essential activities allowed outside the house (i.e. buying food and meds, no leisurely walks/exercise runs)
July 27: Vouchers allocated for 2 groceries trips a week per household (only 1 person can go each time)
August 23: Stay-in-place order takes effect (i.e. no leaving the house except to get vaccinated/go to the hospital)
October 1: Lockdown ends (*fireworks*)
As of writing this newsletter, the lockdown just ended and we’ve fully taken advantage of that by going outside everyday (WE CAN WALK AGAIN!) and making the solemn visit to that much revered place called the supermarket.
We spent an afternoon at a friend’s place the weekend things opened up, the first time we’d been in the same room with friends since May. And on that Sunday I went out for a run, my first run in exactly three months. Though it undeniably feels bizarre, life has picked up where it left off. And now seems a good time as any to reflect on my lockdown experience.1
Lockdown isn’t fun. The lack-of-fun-ness progresses in stages. First you miss going to restaurants and seeing friends in person. Then you miss outdoor runs and going for walks. Then you miss even your weekly trips to the supermarket.
But that’s not my point. My point is we’ve been incredibly privileged, my partner and I.
Life in lockdown was not in the least bit inconvenient for us. Sure, we missed our freedom of movement. But we were comfortable in our two-bedroom and always had a fridge stocked full of goodies that ranged from imported tortilla chips to 2 kilograms of carrots.2
There was acute fear of running out of toilet rolls some weeks in, but the fear was brief as we promptly managed to order 20 rolls for next-day delivery from a fancy supermarket. Those overpriced 4-ply rolls better leave our butt cheeks as smooth as baby skin.3
We live in Vietnam, a country which supposedly has a mission to erase class lines. But you wouldn’t know it if you were here. We aren’t rolling in cash, but as expats we lead very comfortable lives.
And in lockdown, the difference in quality of life becomes even more stark. Expat-area residents were given the freedom to “shop” from any supermarket and order pretty much anything we wanted during the stay-in-place period. While at the same time, friends in other areas (mostly Vietnamese) were only allowed to choose between combos of absolute essentials.
I ordered a couple of times during the strict lockdown, and each time my order arrived the next day: groceries, bread, vegetable, you name it. While some are choosing between combos of vegetables and meat, we’re munching on apple galettes and wondering whether to get Pepsi Lime or Irn-Bru.
For a socialist republic… (I shall say no more.)
In stark contrast to our experience, there are people who literally had nothing to eat or subsisted on instant noodles. And they weren’t suffering in an airy two-bedroom. They suffered in cramped spaces, forgotten by the government who’s supposed to be looking after them.
I rarely donate (not because I’m cold-hearted,4 but because I rarely stumble across a cause that resonates). But a few months back I donated to Saigon Children, specifically to their Covid-19 relief efforts.
I’d first heard about them in a podcast by Vietnam Weekly (a newsletter I’m a huge fan of). The podcast mentioned they were doing “Covid backpacks” which cost about $60 each and contain food and children games/books for families in need. The cause resonated with me, so I donated graciously. And I intend to revisit Saigon Children in my next credit card cycle5 to sponsor a child through university.
Wait, how did we end up with me sponsoring a child’s education?
Anyways, back to my point: My partner and I spent this lockdown in extreme comfort, wanting for nothing, and this is a truly sad and upsetting fact given the millions out there, just outside our expat bubble, who were—and most likely still are—struggling to put food on the table.
Readers from all around the world, what has been your experience of lockdown? Are you cruising through Covid-19 in relative comfort, or are you one of those hit hard by the pandemic?
Send a reply, leave a comment, and share this with anyone you think needs to read it. I’ll send you a metaphorical cookie to express my thanks.
Until next Friday… Stay cool, stay safe, stay thoughtful,
Val
Which, hopefully, is now a thing of the past. Though you never know… the Vietnamese government can easily reverse their decision and lock us all down again at a moment’s notice.
That’s a story for another time.
Report: It’s really quite something.
Though that is debatable…
Goodbye annual fee.