Brochures And Posters Entice 'Viet-Vacationers’

Press, Volume CV, Issue 30959, 15 January 1966, Page 5

Brochures And Posters Entice ' Viet-Vacationers’

(By

JILLIAN ROBERTSON

in the “Sydney Morning Herald.”)

\ lETNAM is about to show a new face to the world. A face to entice more civilian tourists to this blood and sun-drenched land. A face to show the world that a fun-packed life goes on in spite of the war, in spite of daily death on the battlefields, in spite of terrorism and sabotage.

The Government campaign to promote “Viet-hols” has started. In the 10 months ended last October, 25,022 tourists stayed in Saigon. They came from everywhere, Portugal, the Philippines, Korea, America ... The old cliche that any publicity is good publicity has taken effect. As the war has escalated so have the number of tourists.

For instance, in 1958, there were only 15,249 tourists. In 1964, there were 26,282. But for publicity the Tourist Office is not relying on the acres of newsprint, the miles of television film or the endless radio broadcasts about the country. In the drive to recruit Viet-vacationers dozens of colourful extravagant travel posters and brochures have been printed.

These make no mention of the words “war, battle, combat, danger, explosions, bombs, grenades or soldier.” Neither do they mention that over half the population in South Vietnam which form the Viet Cong are fighting against the other half. Instead, in the brochures the people are described as: “Friendly, hospitable .... a cosmopolitan blend of Orient and Occident . . . .”

The introduction to another currently distributed leaflet reads: “Vietnam is rapidly becoming a ‘must see’ for thousands of foreign tourists. Now that jet-liners are cutting flying time to the Orient approximately in half, Saigon is a few, centrally-located travel target for tourists seeking a different setting and atmosphere . . .

Hunter's Paradise According to yet another brochure Vietnam is a “hunter’s paradise.” It says: Hunting season is from October to April. As a special courtesy for foreign visitors, out-of-season hunting permits may be issued to them. Special arrangements may be made through the safari tour operators.” In February yet another publication will be put out by the South Vietnamese Government Tourist Office —a guide manual. The creator of this new handbook and the new tourism promotion is Mr Tran-Ba-Thach, the 35-year-old bachelor director of Vietnam's largest sugar company, who among other things directs the National Tourist office. This Government department is on the ground floor of the Hotel Majestic building across the road from the busy riverside docks. The bureau is large and airy with cream walls covered in gay posters to lure people to Viet-resorts, such as “Dalat—hunting paradise.”

Small And Y oung When I arrived the staff of 35 were trying to look busy. Trade wasn’t brisk. Two American soldiers in splotched camouflage jungle suits wandered in to ask the way to the zoo. It was almost closing time. While I waited to see the director, Miss Tu-Nhat behind the counter explained that in English her name was Miss Nice Day.

Finally I was ushered into the office of Mr Tran-Ba-Thach. He was sitting behind a vast mahogany desk covered with a stack of reports. He looked diminutive sitting in his large air-conditioned office.

He seemed too small, too young, to be the non-pareil of the succession of top Government officials who have directed tourism in the last 11 years.

Mr Tran-Ba-Thach has held this post for six months- The son of a North Vietnamese mandarin he was educated for 11 years in Paris, and for the last seven years has held many government posts, including that of being assistant to the Minister of Finance.

This small thin Vietnamese makes up with a loud voice, large plans and a wide smile what he lacks in stature. “I’m working on a new project,” he said proudly in a clipped South of England accent. “Tourism hasn’t developed a lot because of the conditions at present, the war, you know’.” I said I knew.

He continued: “However, we are planning to establish and to develop tourism as much as possible. I can’t tell you the details of the new project until the end of January. All I can say is that we are going to build more hotels, create more facilities, have more air services, and expand the mountain resort of Dalat. Make it a sort of ‘R. and R’ place,” he added, smiling, because he used the American army abbreviation for “rest and recreation” for battle-weary troops.

V.C. And Tourism Mr Tran-Ba-Thach was so earnest that it seemed mean to scoff at his dreams and plans. So I politely ventured that the war might scare some potential sight-seers away. He explained. “Scared! Do you know why? The fault lies with people like you. Journalists.”

He stopped and looked me hard in the eyeballs. “They spread news that this country, even in the heart of Saigon, is unsafe. Last year we had no tourist casualties. The press gives an exaggerated and distorted picture of life in Saigon.” I refrained from reminding him about the Viet Cong that booked a room at the Caravelle Hotel and left a time bomb in it; the bombing of the floating restaurant; the bombing of the brink: the bombing of the Metropole, etc. etc. And I refrained from reminding him of the daily road shows of hand grenades and artillery put on by the thousands of Viet Cong with similar urges. Mr Tran-Ba-Thach continued: “The V.C. have nothing against the tourist, you know'.”

I said I didn’t know, but I was glad to learn it. I suggested that people might come to South Vietnam because they liked being involved. I remember the people walking across the tarmac at Tan Son Nhut International Airport, Saigon. The locals are discernible by their apathy. The press are discernible by their nonchalance and gear —cameras or typewriters.

The tourists are discernible by their “I’m scared, but show me the way to the burning” expression on their faces. They are either like the people who crowd around road accidents and gape, or they are the suede-shoed adventurers who live by the theory that life is better when risked.

If they ask: “What was that explosion?” and you reply that it was the exhaust from a car, they’ll be disappointed.

Lantern And Gin Viet-vacationers are not the sort that travel tourist-bus style, gazing at Buddhist temples and learning how to use chopsticks. However, the fact remains: it doesn’t matter why but travellers do come to the enemy surrounded capital of the Republic of South Vietnam. It’s not why they come, but because they want to come that the Vietnam National Tourist office hopes to establish agencies abroad to facilitate promotions and bookings. “If conditions permit, we will establish an agency in San Francisco and another in Hong Kong ... Mr Tran-Ba-Thach’s voice stopped abruptly. We were sitting in darkness. There was another power black-out. Night falls quickly in the tropics and the room was pitch dark. Mr Tran-Ba-Thach’s tonsil-type voice floated across: “I’m sorry but things like this do happen in Saigon." An office boy appeared with a small kerosene lantern and gin and tonic. Mr Tran-Ba-Thach continued: “My estimate that if the plan—don’t forget the word ‘lf’—goes ahead, within 18 months we will be able to have package tours.

“And I estimate that we will have 100,000 tourists a year. The Department of Commerce of the United States of America estimates that by 1968 Hong Kong will have 500,000 tourists per annum. “We hope to get one out of every five tourists who go to Hong Kong.” I understood. This was a

long-range plan, a positive gesture towards a positive future? An exhibition of faith in the outcome of the war in the year ahead? Mr Tran-Ba-Thach nodded, and continued about “the sin of supply not meeting demand.” He explained that there was not adequate incountry commercial aircraft to meet the present tourist demand, and until there were more aircraft package tours would be impossible. Flying is not only the only safe means of moving about in South Vietnam, it is the only means. Most of the railways have been abandoned due to sabotage by the Viet Cong. In 1965, nine railway employees were killed and 392 wounded. However, for those with guts and guns, 10 per cent of the railawy network is now operating: that is, at this minute of writing. But there are no time-tables. If you are the patient type, though, you can wait and wait and wait at the main station near Saigon Central Market for THE train. But when it does come, it will only take you 20 miles. Driving out of Saigon, even to the nearest beach- is impossible. The highways are raided regularly by Viet Cong and roads are often scattered with surprises, such as mines or men with rifles and grenades.

Attractions

I inquired what features of Vietnam were being used to appeal to that unknown quantity, the potential Vietvacationer. Mr Than-Ba-Thach looked puzzled. “In the way that Switzerland sells skislopes and cleanliness, in the way that England sells tradition, castles and pubs in the way that Tahiti sells vahines, coconut palms and blue skies,” I explained. “Oh, we have everything,” he replied. “You must stress that. There are a variety of activities. I have prepared the first really comprehensive tourist manual which will be out next month from the printers.

“We emphasise the handicrafts, the charm of the Vietnamese women, and besides we have plenty of beaches and, of course, the most famous and best mountain resort in South-east Asia, Balat . .

Suddenly I no longer felt any contempt for Mr Tran-Ba-Thach’s plan. I liked him. He was so enthusiastic and so patriotic about his country. What does a man do when he is made Director of Tourism in a country that is more than half a battlefield?