How Much for That Clam!?

In Search of Oc, Gai, and the Origins of Celebrity


every night, in every club in saigon, the lasers and strobe lights, which had been feverishly fluttering since dusk, become suddenly disoriented, momentarily lost when the pervasive incandescents come storming in at about a quarter to midnight, arresting the darkness, and bringing the party and its orgy of lights to a halt. and the deafening, seemingly invincible pounding of trance music is supplanted by one of the three standard hip-hop songs. at this point, you and your friends begin planning your escape, you signal for the bill as the second one plays, and, by the middle of the third, you've all paid your share. but before the totalitarian tones of the slow vietnamese pop ballads tackle your ears and torture your brain, you finish off the last of the alcohol in one final "một hai ba!" and depart.

for most, the next destination is one of the myriad outside eateries that all serve the singular purpose of accommodating those who refuse to accept a premature return to sobriety. but of all the "180-something nguyen thai hoc's" and the "that one on nguyen du's", i only knew of one with an actual name -- Oc Gai. according to phuc, and confirmed by several other locals, it's the most famous of these late night refuges. however, you'd never know it from the outside. although i'd been there a couple times before, i would've driven straight past it had dave not told me were already there.

it was a familiar scene in saigon: fluorescent lights illuminated the sidewalk where vietnamese men and women were gathered around cheap plastic tables and sitting (sometimes squatting) on cartoonishly small plastic furniture that's stacked up and stored away once all the customers have left. from the roadside, there is but one discernible difference between Oc Gai and all the others -- the striking presence of a clientele culled from the upper echelon of the vietnamese party scene. spiky, streak-bleached hair, and newly stitched threads in the latest trends signify the wealth of the guys, while the ladies simply let their sheer attractiveness speak to their relative status. i later learned that one, a woman with long black hair and dressed all in white, was an actress in a "well-known" vietnamese film. i didn't know it, or her, but i'm sure her fame is well-deserved because she was pretty hot.

if you were to ask someone why Oc Gai is so popular, one would surely answer that it's the exquisite, exotic, and expensive (but very fair) offerings that attract all these people. yet, among the disenfranchised party elite who flock here after midnight like sea gulls in low tide, what this description applies to depends on who you ask. the gái will say they come here for the ốc -- the snails, scallops, oysters, and other various shellfish. while i cannot deny that these are all adequately ngonlicious, i, and most other guys, come here to feast my eyes on the gái -- the debutantes, waitresses, dancers, prostitutes, and other members of the female species. so it would seem that the shellfish, which draw in the girls that the guys invariably follow, are the ultimate source of Oc Gai's popularity. but could it really be this simple?

i instinctively headed towards the young man waving at me, stopped, and pulled the key out of the ignition. then this motorbike attendant did what all motorbike attendants do: write a number on my back seat in chalk and hand me a ticket. i stepped off the bike and surveyed the cornucopia of beauties. trời ơi! if mollusks were capable of having erections and were attracted to human females and were eaten live, then the patrons here would all be eating a hell of a lot of escargot boners. that's for damn sure.

but my enthusiasm soon faded once i realized i had about as much chance with any of these gem-bearing gai as the bottom-feeder hauling off my motorbike -- my suddenly, frighteningly awful piece of middle-class crap motorbike -- past all the dylans, @'s, and spaceys, and parked somewhere comfortably out of sight. "yeah, just put it next to your bicycle. awesome." i wondered if any of the girls here were at all interested in picking up guys. probably not, as their day jobs likely consisted of squeezing cash out of the richer sex. i'm sure most of the guys and girls here had more money than me, but whatever, you can't buy whiteness, and that's as good as gold here. or at least that's how i consoled myself.

we joined lucy, the legendary barbie/emcee/mother/restauranteur, who was already seated next to something she assured was "just a friend." although it looked like a 30-something year old asian guy, and had driven her there in a mercedes, based on how it dispensed with cash i'd swear it was an ATM. i think the trick is to swipe your hand in the ass crack, and key in your PIN on the nipples with your tongue as if using a rotary phone. regardless, i didn't care much about whether it was biological or mechanical, only that it paid for our meal and didn't speak very much.

lucy was skillfully extracting a large, deceased snail from its former home for the scheduled funeral service in her stomach, and i dutifully joined her in this most satisfying ceremony. fork goes in, snail comes out -- it's pretty simple, but if it's not done right, i was told, then i might miss out on the good stuff at the end. well let me tell you something: that "stuff" at the end is a trail of feces attached to the snail's ass. generally my principles would prohibit me from putting that anywhere near my mouth, but given the circumstances of the snail's situation, i ate it without expecting reciprocation. so is the secret to Oc Gai's success its inexplicable ability to induce such altruistic behavior? probably not.

maybe it's the blood cockle. ok, what are you 4 years old? grow up; blood cockle is a shellfish, and is absolutely nothing like a blood vaginal... and i speak from experience. observe: one begins by placing the thumbs of both hands along the crease of the ridged, clam-like outer shell. then he massages it open with a firm but careful prying, making sure not to let the precious juices in which it marinates spill out. once it's fully spread, he beholds the wet, fleshy bud perched coyly upon its quiescent throne, resisting the temptation to devour the object of his desire in one ravenous gulp. then, when the moment is right, he places his lips around the soft, briny morsel, and uses his tongue to wedge it against the back of his incisors. then he gently (gently!) avulses the delicate creature while simultaneously slurping the pungent soup. his mouth immediately absorbs the bitter punch of iron before being overwhelmed with the savory fish flavor to which one is more accustomed. finally, after recoiling in scrumptious ecstasy, he lets the slippery slop slide sensually down the back of his throat. it's truly spectacular. on the other hand, a blood cockle tastes totally different as i'm sure any cockle connoisseur can tell you.

perhaps Oc Gai's popularity has nothing to do with the food, but its unique selection of utensils -- namely, the safety pin. the last time i stared so intensely at a safety pin, i was about 14 years old, trying to work up the courage to stick it through my ear so i could join the very exclusive "cool kids with their left ear pierced (not the right one, that means you're gay!)" club. i never made it in (it hurt), but now i had a chance to join an even more exclusive club: the "i can use a safety pin to get this tasty little fucker out of its shell and into my mouth" club. after several goes at it, i worked out a fairly efficient method of removing the tiny ốc dừa, coconut shellfish, based on a fiddle-flip-poke technique. (traveler's note: the poke-pull-fiddle-pull-poke-fiddle-poke-poke-poke-smash technique is a dead end street.) it's a lot of effort for a crumb, albeit a delicious crumb, perhaps the best crumb i've ever had. but still, everyone knows crumbs are for bums.

then again so is beer and i certainly didn't let any such pretensions prevent me from drinking straight 'til my bladder was ready to burst. so at some point i made the ritual trek to the trough. by now i whole-heartedly accept urinating into these as being a custom inherent in going out to eat anywhere that caters to locals. (girls are privy to a much more authentic toilet experience. they get to relieve themselves directly into a drain in the floor.) well on this particular evening, i really wish i'd had my camera because i was granted the rarest of opportunities -- a genuine insight into the way real people around here do things. looking down into the aluminum trough, i noticed someone had graciously left me a wet, stinky pile of puke to piss on. trời! i was so excited, i almost peed my pants before i could undo my zipper. a real, actual "cultural experience!" at the esteemed Oc Gai no less! i wasted no time and not a single drop of pee doing what i figured all the locals must do in this situation: try to corral the puke into the drain with a hard, steady stream of urine. it was impossibly awesome, but admittedly, probably not something that most people would enjoy. most stupid people.

upon my return i was greeted by a succession of many casual acquaintances that attended to me as though i were a celebrity. let's see, there was the old wrinkly woman with no teeth who was kind enough to offer mangos and peanuts in exchange for a little money; and the guy practically giving away that stinky ol' cuttlefish; and that deformed, no-leg-having people-ma-bob shoving lottery tickets in my face, crossing his only two functional fingers in the hopes that i'll hit it big. but my best friends were the young boys who'd give out free massages (but only if you don't pay them) and the little girls who always help me woo that special someone with roses (you only have to pay them if you take their flower and start chewing on it. they love that. but don't refuse to buy their flower and tell them you don't want it because it's too ugly, unless you like being cursed at in vietnamese by a 5-year old.)

my friends all came and went after i glanced a friendly "fuck off" to each. apparently the key to drawing a crowd is a convergence of drunkness and whiteness, while the key to being a true celebrity who can sustain that crowd is simply money. as i'm pondering this, i see a package of gum thrust within a foot of my face. attached to the ever-crappy "happy-dent" was the dirty hand of a young girl with lifeless, street-hardened eyes that offered a shallow glimpse into the struggle of a child whose parents probably threaten to abandon her unless she brings home at least a dollar a night. of course, that's assuming this poor, cute little girl even has parents...

"no."
"[insert vietnamese words that indicate she really really needs--]"
"no."
"[insert more viet--]"
"KHHHONG!"

i'l admit my callousness towards those disproportionately less fortunate than me can be exceptional. but in this case, i just didn't want the damn gum. maybe if she was selling memory cards for digital cameras. i could've used one of those. or a nice case for my ipod. that would be cool. but who really wants to buy that stale, flavorless gum?

she started speaking to dave, and he laughed.

"what did she say?"
"she thinks you're gay."
"what the--!? nah."
"yeah."
"...you know what? fuck that."

i looked at her and said to her in vietnamese, "gay huh?" she started laughing. "yeah that's funny." then, i was blasted in the face with a brilliant idea. i gave the girl 20,000 VND, a little more than a dollar, and shook my head when she tried handing me the gum. i said, "dave, tell her i don't want the gum, but whenever she sees me she has to pretend i'm a famous american movie star." she smiled at that and then scurried away.

that was the last time i ever went to Oc Gai and i never saw the girl again. my plan, when i return to saigon, is to pay off every street kid i see and tell them they have to pretend i'm a celebrity. and that is how i'll become as famous as Oc Gai.