First Hours in Ho Chi Minh

We stepped outside our hotel and into the humidity and chaos of Ho Chi Minh City. Horns and mopeds blared all around. The amount of two-wheeled conveyances boggled the mind. Everyone, it seemed, was on a motorbike: ladies in dresses, fathers holding toddlers, buddies, singles⸺most wearing masks and helmets. The chaos on the roads spread like an ant colony, especially at intersections where no obvious rules could be observed. Ants just weaved in and out as they pleased. 

Vietnamese women sat along dilapidated sidewalks and set up shop for the day. Dogs sat with them, some wearing leashes and some roaming freely. 

We found a man selling Banh Mi from his cart. With excitement he came and translated the options for us. “This one is fish,” he said in a strange accent. He gave us a strip of fried fish from his cooler where he kept it warm. We wanted two of them. 

He took a baguette and sliced it in half lengthwise. He piled on greens and cucumbers, along with fried strips of fish, more toppings and two types of sauce. When I bit in I could taste the sweetness of the sauce alongside the burning of raw pepper. I began to sweat.⸺ I gave him 200,000 dong and he gave me change. It only came out to 30,000 dong and I think he short-changed me, but I didn't catch it until later.

Our morning stroll took us past a Chinese temple, with images and burning sticks of incense along the sidewalk. Around the corner was another house of worship, this one appearing Christian due to figures of Christ and the Virgin Mary. Built next to it was a tall pagoda, crowned with a cross. 

River near our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City.

Our journey took us on a bridge that crossed a river. From here there were many good views of Ho Chi Minh, including the pagoda of the church. The trees along the bank reflected in the water. On the far side of the bridge we crossed over a street that ran parallel to the river. We peered down over the railing and watched the mopeds buzz underneath, their four-cylinder engines revving in unison. We watched the fruit shops down below setting up for the day. Ladies in cone-shaped rice hats pushed out plastic tables and cut herbs to sell with swimming broth of pho.

The smell of asphalt and exhaust filled the air, along with an occasional whiff of anise and herbs. Everything was dingy, from sidewalks to stacked buildings that served as homes. Some of the flats that faced the noisy street had clothes hanging out to dry on the balcony. 

Morning in Saigon.

Clothes hanging out  to dry.

Setting up shop on the streets of Ho Chi Minh.

Every intersection was a new adventure. Wait, wait, wait, read . . . after that car⸺hold on, not yet. Now! We walked slow and methodically across every busy intersection, with cars and mopeds passing in front and behind, usually honking. They didn't stop or slow down. They just swerved around. 

In a park we were approached by Mr. Tung. He wore green pants and a shirt that resembled military attire. When he learned we were Americans he became very friendly. I could barely understand him because of his thick accent, but from what I gathered he admired Americans because they helped his cause. After the North Vietnamese won the war, his family fled to the Philippines. I finally learned he was offering tours. He was very nice, but I could hardly understand a word he spoke, so I decided to pass it up. 

In that same park we passed a group of ladies doing slow aerobics (maybe Tai Chi?) to music. They pointed their arms in the air and slowly spun to music like synchronized swimmers. 

One of many crazy intersections in Saigon.

On the sidewalk we passed a man carrying a long stick over his shoulder, a wooden tray of coconuts on one end and a box of tools on the other. He was very convivial and let Jordan carry the weighted stick on his shoulder. We didn't think anything of it.  Then he stopped, pulled out a butcher knife from the wooden box, and whacked off the top of a coconut and handed one to each of us with a straw.

Of course he is expecting money, I thought. I pulled out my wallet, expecting to pay perhaps 10,000 dong each. When I asked him how much, he replied with 150,000 dong! There was no way two coconuts were worth 150K in Vietnamese dong. Reluctantly I gave it to him, but was determined not to be hustled again. 

Jordan carrying a load for the "coconut man."

Around the block we came to the Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica of Saigon. I highly anticipated this visit. I had seen many cathedrals in Europe, as well as South America. This would be my first in Asia. This architectural marvel dated back to the French colonial period. 

To our disappointment the building and grounds were covered in scaffolding and fencing. It was closed to the public. Even the two iconic bell towers were obscured. We watched from across the street as workers labored on the roof. 

Workers on the roof of Notre-Dame Basilica Cathedral of Saigon.

Not far away we came to an interesting sign on a lamppost. Depicted on the sign were four people, including a construction worker and college graduate. In the background on one side was a farm, and on the other, skyscrapers. But what caught my attention the most was the banner in the center. It looked like an old Soviet-style red flag with a hammer and sickle in the corner. I found this curious because I knew this wasn't the flag of Vietnam (a red flag with golden star), but I also knew that Vietnam was one of five communist countries in the world (the others being China, Cuba, Laos and North Korea). 

The hammer and sickle has become a standard symbol around the world for communism as a whole. The hammer represents the workers and the sickle the peasants, and put together they are unified. Jordan translated the words of the sign on his phone: “Vietnam journals: unity, creativity, building the country for a more sustained development.” I don't know if you would consider this “communist propaganda,” but that's certainly what came to mind. 

Just a few more blocks and we arrived at our destination. Several tanks, a Chinook helicopter, and a Huey sat in front. We paid 40,000 dong and entered the War Remnants Museum. ♠

 

A propaganda sign on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City?