Chapter VII:

Once Uponon a Weird Filipino Gambling Scam

One sweltering Saigon day, with the temperature reaching towards a hundred and five degrees

Fahrenheit, I decided to go out and explore the city by walking to the post office. I had purchased a

traditional Vietnamese musical instrument called a Dan Bao in Hanoi and wanted to mail it back to the

United States before I flew to Bangkok.

Traditional Vietnamese instrument called the Dan Bao, purchased in Hanoi

First, I tried to rent a bicycle in Ho Chi Minh City. I had had an amazing experience bicycling

in Hanoi. The concept of road rules had yet to reach Vietnam. Instead, traffic just goes. Figuring out

how to go with the traffic was a great challenge, and a lot of fun. I was touched one day as an elderly

Vietnamese woman grabbed onto my arm as I was about to cross the street and smiled peacefully at

me. It was her way of saying that we should help each other out and cross the street together.

Drivers and cyclists are more attentive to the movement and flow of other vehicles in Vietnam,

versus American drivers who are so dependent on the rules of the road that they tune out and neglect to

pay any deferencettention. Somehow, the system in Hanoi actually works, possibly because it forces

motorists to be entirely concentrated on the task at hand. Hanoi is the only place in the world where I

was able to ride my bicycle on the highway. I saw the most unexpected cargo in Vietnam, such as full -

grown orange trees and queen size mattresses that were somehow strapped and balanced on the back of

motorbikes.

However, there are no bicycles for rent in Saigon. Frustrated, I inquired into asked the reason

for this. It was explained to me that motorbikes cost more to rent, so the renters removed the option of

bicycles so that tourists had no choice but to spend more money.

The last time I had rented a motorbike was in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. The rental was 150

baht, or American five dollars, for twenty-four hours. No motorcycle license or previous experience

was required. It was a recipe for disaster. I crashed the motorbike somewhere in the hilly region near

the Burmese border. Although we did notdidn't share a common language, a local man made repairs to

the motorbike and only charged me another 150 baht. I still have a giant burn mark, my motorbike

battle scar, which stretches across my right calf.

Some idiot gave me the keys to a motorbike!

I dont know what to think about this burn on my leg. Should I be proud of it? It was attained

as I was riding a motorbike through the mountains outside Kanchanaburi, almost near the

Burmese border, and I, er, slid a bit. So now Ive got this big ass, ugly burn scar across my

right calf. I used to have perfect legs. I could have been a leg model. Was I going to?

Probably not. (Excerpt from my journal).

Raw motorbike battle wound

I had learned my reckless driving lesson in Thailand, and opted to use my feet over a motorbike

in Vietnam. I was strolling down one of the busy streets of Ho Chi Minh City, surrounded by the roar

of incessant motorbike traffic and bustling Vietnamese, when I was approached by a man who said that

I looked like some Italian actress whose name I did notdidn't recognize. I was impressed that he

associated me with anything Italian, as that is half my ancestry. I figured to people in Asia, all white

people must look the same.

Ho Chi Minh Citys crazy motorbike traffic jams

You must sit and drink some tea with us! I accepted the invitation on account of the fact that I

hadnt had an English language conversation with anyone for about two days. I took a seat at the little

table at this outdoor caf and we shared conversation. It was two men and a girl, all seemingly my age

in their twenties.

Where are you from that you speak English so well? I asked.

We are from the Philippines. Everyone in the Philippines speaks English! Where are you

from? When I told them that I was from Chicago, they seemed very pleased.

My sister is going to study there! one of the men told me,. I bet she would love to meet you

and ask you lots of questions about Chicago.

She wi'll love it! I replied, and made a grand pitch about how Chicago was such an amazing

city,. eExcept for the winter, that is.

We carried on conversation and once we had finished our tea, they insisted on paying the bill.

The girl, whose name was Sofphie, invited me back to her house for lunch. Sophie was thin and pretty.

She seemed to radiate a sense of youth that was both playful and trustworthyworthy.

Sophie and I got into a cab and she said that I must be very careful in Ho Chi Minh City. She

pointed out which cab companies were safe to use, and warned me that all other cabs were likely

fraudulent. I thanked her for her concern for my safety. We were driven to a residential area in North

West part of the city. The cab turned left off of one major street, and then made another left on a much

tinier street. SofieSophies house was on the right side, squeezed between two other houses with a stone

exterior and a large front door. I tried to give the cab driver some dong, but Sophie insisted on paying.

You are my guest! she explained.

After I walked in, I stepped to the right and found myself in a living room with a plush,

luxurious couch, large screen television, and a tile floor. I couldnt help but notice how nice it was

inside their home compared to the squalor that many Ho Chi Minh City residents experience. There

were no plastic buckets, hanging laundry, or any floating garbage to be found. The decorations were

tasteful and organized. Everything was clean and neat. The temperature was quite comfortable. I felt

like I was in someones home back in Chicago.

As many travelers know, it isit's usually the most impoverished people who invite you to share.

This beautiful home was notwasn't quite what I was expecting, and that was fine with me. Sophie

invited me to have a seat on the couch while she and her aunt prepared lunch. On the other side of the

couch sat Sophies uncle, Let, who was mostly quiet. He was watching some kind of boxing match. I

tried to watch the match with him but it failed to keep my interest so I opened my guidebook instead.

I was planning on going to the Philippines towards the end of my trip, so I opened to a page

with a map of the country. I asked Sophie where I should go. Sophie said she was from a town in

Luzon, north of Manila, and had a boyfriend there. She asked me for my email address so that we

could keep in contact and hang out in Manila.

Lunch was ready so we sat at the table to enjoy some fish, rice, vegetables, and some strange

Philippine fruit I had never seen before.

This is great, I said, lets all take a picture together at this wonderful meal!

No, no, no, decreed Sophie and her Aunt simultaneously.

Why not? I asked.

Its against our religion, they retorted. I was under the impression that most Filipinos were

Catholic, so their response made me confused. I grew up with the Catholic Church myself. I couldnt

quite recall any thou shalt not be in photos commandments. I did notdidn't, however, want to be rude.

I took a picture of the food instead.

A picture of another meal I ate in Saigon, since the photo I took at Sophies house mysteriously

disappeared

It was just Sophie and I sitting down to lunch in the dining area, which was situated near the

bottom of the stairs and behind the living room couch where Uncle Let still sat, mesmerized by the

television. Her aunt remained in the kitchen. The fish was fried whole, Filipino style. Sophie was happy

to cut up the fruit as we talked about her country. I told her how I had been working in Bangkok. The

fruit she gave me tasted similar to water chestnut, but sweeter.

After we finished eating, Sophie and her mother returned to the kitchen in the back of the house

to wash the dishes. I offered to help, but was directed to relax on the couch.

Again, I was stuck watching boxing with Let. I tried to start a conversation with him.

You have a very nice home, I commented,. wWhat do you do for a living?

I amI'm a dealer at the casino boat, he replied. There was more boxing and silence. A few

minutes passed before Let piped up again.

You know, Let said, I know this girl from Germany. When she comes to town, she comes to

the casino boat and pretends to win sixty thousand dollars. We cheat and let her win, because if the

other tourists see a white woman winning big, they believe that they can win big, too. In return, we let

her keep fifteen thousand dollars.

Wow, I thought. That sounds like an acting gig to me. Nobody would be getting scammed

directly because it was all pretend, like advertising, so this didnt interfere with my morals.

Would you be interested in doing something like that? Let asked.

Would I?! I imagined how far fifteen thousand dollars would go in a country like Vietnam. I

imagined walking onto that casino boat in a long, sparkling evening gown, with a Breakfast at Tiffanys

style cigarette holder in my hand, acting like some swanky high roller. I knew that I couldnt take that

kind of cash out of the country, so I pictured renting the most luxuriously modern penthouse suite in all

of Saigon. I thought of buying all new, tailored clothing to replace my ratty travelers wardrobe. I saw

myself riding around town in a stretch limousine with a bunch of hookers Id pay just to hang out with

me.

Im in, I replied.

The high rises of Ho Chi Minh City

Sophie and her uncle wanted me to join them in an upstairs bedroom so they could teach my

how this was done. I suggested that we do this in the living room, but Sophie assured me that they

already had a setup upstairs, and that she would be my playing partner. I followed them upstairs and

entered a bedroom on the right. The room had plain white walls and simple furnishing. There were two

chairs set up by the window, a large table in the middle of the room, and a bed covered in colorful

childrens bed sheets against the wall. Sophie and I sat next to each other on the bed, while her uncle

sat across from us by the window.

Let me preface this by saying that I amI'm not a gambler. Im not really into losing money.

When I go to a casinos, its for fun. I usually throw five or ten dollars down on roulette, maybe play

some dollar blackjack if they have it, and thats about the extent of my gambling problem. I told this to

Sophie and Let, who assured me not to worry about it because I wouldnt be using any of my own

money, or actually gambling.

Im not sure what this game was even called. I had never even heard of it anymore. First, Let

taught me how to play. Then, he went on to teach me how to cheat so that the other foreigners would

think I was actually winning. Let showed me various hand signals that he would rest his face on to

signal which card was coming next so I could make the appropriate move forward.

However, what Let and Sophie didnt anticipate is that I cannot count. I amI'm good with

words, but math is notisn't my forte. I amI'm very tapped in to the right side of my brain, while the left

side of my brain just kind of hangs out. They found this frustrating that I kept freezing up and not

knowing what to do next, on account that I could non't handle even the simplest of math equations. It

isIt's difficult to count cards when you suck at counting.

I was worried I might lose the gig, when Sophie stepped in as my partner and helped me decide

what cards to play. I asked if she would come to the casino to help me, because my inability to count

was an ongoing problem. She told me that thisat should be alright.

That is when Lets phone rang. He announced that his friend was here, and that we were going

to play a friendly game. I told him that I did notdidn't agree to scam anyone directly, and did notdidn't

want to be involved in his friendly game. He told me not to worry, that it was his friends fault for

being so rich and having such a big gambling problem in the first place.

Before I could object, in walked a short, pudgy man in full Muslim garb. He wore a long, white

robe with intricate golden embroidery, and a matching taquiyah, or hat, worn by men of Islamic faith.

He carried a brief case, which he opened to display thousands of American dollars neatly wrapped in

bundles. I had never seen so much money before in my life. It was like a scene from Pulp Fiction.

Meanwhile, Sophie slipped me a wad of cash under the table. This is when shit officially got weird.

You are so beautiful, he said,. I could make you one of my wives!

I dont think so. I sharply replied.

She is feisty! he commented to Let.

I had one of two choices at this point. I could freak out, or I could keep my cool and try to get

out of this jam as smoothly as possible. My South Side Chicago, tough ghetto bitch alter -ego kicked

in, a side of me that usually only emerges when Im drunk. I sat there with a skeptical face, one

eyebrow raised, eyeballing these guys as idf I was going to reach out and cut them at any given

moment.

The man described himself as a furniture salesman from Brunei, with a successful business in

Singapore. I wasnt sure if he was part of their scam on me, or if they were using me to scam on him.

Either way, I wasnt feeling it.

Whatever, I replied, trying to act all hard. Sophie and Let looked at each other with alarm.

This wasnt the nice, friendly girl they had encountered downstairs. They had to make this quick.

Sophie offered to get me something to drink, but I declined. There was no way I was going to consume

anything more in this house. I was fearful that they had already drugged me at lunch, and was prepared

to fight any sudden feelings of fatigue with all my mental and bodily strength.

Sophie instructed me to put the wad of cash, which was supposedly fifteen thousand dollars, on

the table. We played the first hand, which I somehow won, despite the fact that I wasnt counting,

looking at Lets hand signals, or making any effort whatsoever. I was more focused on maintaining my

cool and mean persona. They asked me to put down more for the next hand, but I said that I didnt have

any money. Let said that it was alright, that the man from Brunei would credit us. The man from

Brunei tried to create small talk with me, but I wasnt interested. I somehow managed to win every

single hand over the course of five minutes, and the contents of the briefcase were supposedly ours. I

saw right through this supposed beginner's luck. There was one problem.

You only bet fifteen thousand dollars, the man from Brunei explained, and I have put down

sixty. You must match my amount before I give you your winnings.

That sounds fair, Let replied. He turned to me,.

Can you put down the rest of the money? he asked.

Are you kidding? I amI'm broke! I was pretty broke.

Well, what if we took it out of your credit card? he suggested.

I dont even have a credit card, I lied. My credit card was only for emergencies, and this was

definitely not an emergency.

What about a debit card? he tried.

I dont have that kind of money, I firmly declared.

Let considered which of his friends he could call uponon to loan him money. He made brief

phone calls in English too his friends, in English, asking them for money. I hardly believed the calls

were realistic. Then, he led me into the hallway for a private discussion.

Wow, he begged, this is a lot of money we just won. My family really needs this money. My

mother needs heart surgery and we cannot afford the medical bills.

Im really sorry to hear that, Let, but I canno't help you. I amI'm not who you think I amI am. I

told you I was working in Bangkok. I get paid in Bbaht, I explained, crossing my arms and leaning

skeptically to one side.

No, Let replied, we need dollars!

Thailand equals baht. Baht is what I got. What part of this dont you understand? I do not have

a Western income. I have been working in Thai-laaand. Thailand dude. Thai wages. I dont have what

you a're looking for. My body language must have conveyed a sense of my calling his bluff, so Let

started getting desperate.

What if, he resorted,we took what you do have and turned it into gold? Then we could make

a profit.

Im not even going there, Let, that straight up sounds like a scam to me. Im finished here. I

walked back into the bedroom where the others were waiting. The man from Brunei had to leave, so he

agreed to lock the briefcase and leave it at the house, taking the key with him. I will return later once

you have the money..

Sophie suggested that perhaps I should be on my way, too. I couldnt agree more. I climbed into

a taxi with Sophie and her Aunt and they dropped me off at the post office. They asked if I could pay

for this cab ride, and I happily complied. I calmly stepped out of the car into the scorching afternoon

heat, walked up the post office steps, and into the building.

The moment that cool, air conditioned air hit me, South Side ghetto me regressed into

hibernation. What the fuck just happened?! I opened my purse to make sure everything was still there.

My camera, my wallet, my cell phone, everything was accounted for. Did I really just walk from that

entirely unscathed?

Another view of Ho Chi Minh City

I was too confused and embarrassed to tell anyone, so I just went ahead with mailing my

package home. There were plenty of police officers at the post office, but I guess my inability to speak

Vietnamese was yet another reason I didnt report it. Also, I hadnt actually been scammed, so what did

I have to report?

Later that day, I went to an internet caf, where I googled Filipino gambling scam Saigon.

Nothing came up. I did, however, receive an email from an account registered to someone named

Dianne Closas the next day. It read,:

Hi how are you? This is Sophie did you still remember me? How are you now? You are in

America now? Did my uncle call you? Pease try to answer me if you are not busy. (3/5/2011)

I didnt respond.

In revisiting my story after all this time, I once again gGoogled the term Filipino gambling

scam Saigon, and the results had grown immensely. Blog after blog describes the exact same house

that I had visited. There are message boards filled with warnings about the gang of Filipinos operating

out of Ho Chi Minh City in attempts to scam tourists through the medium of gambling. There have

been reports of other travelers who lost thousands of dollars at the hands of this gang. Most travelers

offered to put their own money down and gambled against them, unaware of the gangs methods for

cheating. Others were drugged and robbed.

How I walked away unharmed is astonishing to me. Perhaps I was being too difficult, or maybe

they believed I wasnt worth anything and wanted to get rid of me in order to move on to the next

tourist. This is all pretty wild. Travelers to Saigon should be aware of this scam and avoid talking to

these people entirely, because they are dangerous. I amI'm grateful, because I was very lucky.

I went back to my guesthouse to discover that the Vietnamese staff had been inside my room to

clean while I was gone. I wasnt expecting this, because daily housekeeping is notisn't common

practice for low -end accommodation. At first, I was alarmed because I had left illegal substances out

on the desk. I laughed when I realized that whoever had cleaned my room had neatly arranged my

marijuana and rolling papers on top of a plate for my return. Later that night, they chuckled when my

delivery from Saigons Sarpinos Pizzaria had arrived.

The guesthouse I stayed at was run by a Vietnamese family. The thin wife and frail

grandmother did all of the work to keep their business running. These women regularly cooked,

cleaned, and hauled heavy bags and suitcases up several flights of stairs. Meanwhile, the male head of

the family sat on a couch in the lobby like a lazy lump in his boxers and wife beater shirt. All day, he

would watch television while the children poked and prodded at him for attention.

Food I made at the Vietnamese culinary class

The rest of my stay in Saigon was fantastic. I took a Vietnamese cooking class, where my

instructor filled me in on the art of drunken motorbike driving and alcohol -related accident protocol as

I learned how to roll my own spring rolls and tie up a Pandan leaf to throw in with rice as it steamed for

superior flavor. The next day, I had lunch with a Vietnamese girl who I had met in the market when I

complimented her dangling American Fflag earrings.

Fruits and veggies at the Vietnamese market

I eat chay for the Buddha, she told me over our delicious meal of Vietnamese salad and soup

with tofu. Her name was Lin*. She described how the Vietnamese people loved the United States.

This was contrary to what I had expected uponon coming to this country. It explained why I

had been so well received as an American, and why the people of Vietnam had been so friendly towards

me. She explained that the war was a very long time ago, and now Vietnam had a new generation. Lin

said that she wanted to talk more, but that she had to return to her job doing nails at a beauty salon.

Considering I was in need of a haircut, I asked her where the salon was, and told her I would like to

come by later in the day.

Formatted

Formatted

Comment [Jeanette 1]: Please chop up this sentence. It's super long.

Fish for sale in the market where I met Lin

I do non't think she expected me to actually visit the salon, because Lin looked pleasantly

surprised when I showed up. Her coworkers did notdidn't speak English, so she translated what I

wanted them to do with my hair.

This was no simple haircut. First, the woman washed my hair, massaging my scalp. This was

followed by a facial scrub and moisturizer that she gently and firmly rubbed into my skin, messaging

my face and temples. Then, she moved on to massage and moisturize my hands, arms, and shoulders

while my hair soaked in deep conditioner.

After I was washed and pampered, I was she led me to the styling chair, where another woman

cut my hair exactly as I had requested. This was followed by five stylists all brushing and drying my

hair simultaneously, smiling at me through the mirror while chatting in Vietnamese. Lin said that they

all wanted a chance to touch my hair.

I was at the salon for more than two wonderful hours. Once they were finished, the salon only

charged me eight dollars for the greatest haircut of my life.