Wednesday 30 August – Saigon
Eyes open, it’s light outside. And by the sound of things, Saigon is awake.
Phone looked at; 5.30am.
Not going to happen.
But interestingly, it feels like it could.
I resist the urge. Quite easily, as it turns out.
Phone put down, along with my head, and little more than dozing is achieved over the next couple of hours.
Vertical position attained at 7.30am, and out at 8.30am. Would have been out earlier, had a brief, but reasonably significant, shower of rain not occurred.
Get to my first, and pretty much only, busy intersection to navigate to achieve my goal of reaching ‘my’ café, and it is absolute bedlam.
Bikes everywhere, along with a car or two, and they are all in the middle of the intersection, going nowhere fast.
It’s interesting and fascinating, all at the same time, and it takes me a minute to work out what’s going on.
Those green and red things that light up on the poles on the corners, the very things that many drivers take as advisory only here, are showing nothing that resembles green and red, nor any other colour, for that matter.
I make my way across in a Frogger like fashion, unscathed, while a disabled woman does the same, but from a different direction, ‘crawling along’ on a wheeled skateboard-like contraption.
Puts a little perspective in one’s life….
Up Diagonal Street, and across to the café. The guy knows me, along with another guy who I’m pretty sure was sitting here yesterday.
“Cà phê sữa đá?”, said with a big smile.
“Yes, please”, said with an even bigger smile back.
It quickly arrives, this time a large one, along with the trà đá, and the world seems just that little bit better.
Not sure there’s a better way to start the day.
The guy who I’m pretty sure was here yesterday, strikes up a conversation. He’s Vietnamese, but has lived a fair chunk of his life in America, so has excellent English. But, he’s returned to his homeland, and has now been living here for the last nine years. And by the sounds of it, couldn’t be happier.
We chat for a bit, and he’s incredibly friendly and easy to talk to.
Coffee (30 000 Dong), and chat, done, I head off in the general direction of the market. Down a hem a bit further up, and my first thought is that I’ve found another, albeit smaller, market. Walk along it, and it turns out to be a bit of an extension of the main market.
It could well have been here last year, but I don’t remember it. Regardless, like most local markets, it’s brilliant, with it being so real and authentic.
The rice vendor.
To the main market proper, and like 12 months ago, it’s good.
Bit of a walk around, and then back towards the LeBlanc. The traffic lights are still out, and the bedlam continues.
Quick toilet stop, and with my chores all done yesterday, I don’t really have any plans. A quick glance out the window after hearing a noise that sounds a little like rain, and it turns out there’s a very good reason for it sounding like rain.
I sit on the bed to wait it out, while using Google Maps for inspiration on what to do.
Being easily pleased, as in not actually having to do something to be doing something, I just want to go for a walk. The difficult question of where, turns out to be not difficult at all, purely because I know exactly where I don’t want to walk. And that is the big wide roads of Saigon.
And if it’s not going to be the big wide roads, then it must be the hems, and Google Maps tells me of many hems to the south of here.
So, that’s the plan, which in all seriousness, isn’t much of a plan at all.
The rain has stopped, so I take a chance and head out a bit after 10.00am.
Through the mayhem of the uncontrolled intersection, which I think I actually prefer more, and up Diagonal Street. Across the next main-ish road, past my café, and into the next block of hems that we haven’t spent a great deal of time in.
The result of no traffic lights.
The walk, which is an easy and enjoyable one, continues, and then I see something I haven’t seen since I arrived at the Le Blanc, a little over 24 hours ago.
It’s a Westerner. He’s riding a bicycle, and he’s not only wearing far better clothes than I am at the moment, but also far better clothes than I will ever wear while here.
He looks like a tourist, but his whole look certainly doesn’t scream tourist, with my educated guess being he’s here for work.
Regardless of the accuracy of my educated guess, which really is nothing of the sort, he acknowledges me with a smile, as well as a hello, as he rides past.
I do the same, but he’s somewhat surprised me, as over the years I’ve been trained to expect very little in the way of acknowledgements, from Western tourists.
But there is likely the reason for his simple kindness, in that he likely isn’t your bog-standard tourist.
Regardless, I appreciated him making the effort.
On I go, with a little more faith in the world’s people, and I reach a point where it’s either right, where the hem stays the same width, or it’s left, where the hem appears to become narrow and rabbit warren-ish.
Unneeded, and unwanted, self-preservation kicks in, and my brain says go right.
But I get a little frustrated and annoyed with my brain at times, and this time I decide to ignore him.
Down the narrow hem, and a bike comes round the corner, which is a good sign. An even better sign is when several more bikes appear, and with the hem getting narrower, they need to wait their turn, with no room to overtake or pass.
The narrow hem then turns into an even narrower hem, which is only just wide enough for one bike, along with perhaps a very small, and trusting, cat.
We have bikes coming down from what appears to be a busier road, as well as bikes trying to get out of these hems, and up to that busier road.
And we also have me, who being sans bike, is just a pedestrian getting in the way.
Knowing my place in the pecking order, I wait patiently for my turn, which worried me not one iota.
It was actually quite fun watching it all work.
A break in the stream of bikes appears, and I make my move. Down the narrowest bit, which had I been both a graffiti vandal and ambidextrous, I could have left my mark on both walls at the same time, and I make it before another bike appears.
Not a lot of room to spare….
Up to the main-ish, and rather boring, road, before disappearing down another hem on the other side.
Ahhh, much nicer, and far more interesting.
The walk continues, and we reach another busier road. The busier road holds absolutely zero interest for me, but what is on the other side of it, down yet another hem, holds great interest.
It’s a local market, and one that is both very local, and also very busy.
Oh how I love finding stuff by accident, here in Vietnam!
Over the road, and right in amongst it. Yep, busy and crowded, but also messy, as in mud and large puddles of water, no doubt due to the rain, that really don’t look appealing.
The street appears to have been recently dug up, with the works perhaps having something to do with the installation of new plumbing or drainage. And by the looks of things, these works are still very much in progress.
Regardless of what’s going on, it’s a mess, and I really feel for the vendors who are having to put up with it all.
The photo doesn’t quite capture how bad it actually was.
Down the hem, taking in the sights, and trying to stay out of the way, while concentrating harder than I’ve ever concentrated, on where each foot lands as I go.
Those puddles do not look inviting, with the ones next to the fish mongers, being the ones I’m really keen to avoid. Particularly as I’m wearing my good thongs.
I reach the end, relatively unscathed, and head across the next ‘busy’ road, and down another hem, opposite.
Into the hem, down a bit, and all of a sudden, a sense of familiarity washes over me. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel like I’ve been here before.
I stop, and try and get my bearings on, if I’m right, where certain things will be. There’s a bit of an open area next to me, which is where my hazy recollection says it should be, and over the other side is a café, which I’m pretty sure we had a cà phê sữa đá at.
Okay, so far so good.
The walk continues, with the feeling that I should find a nearby hem off to the left.
I do, and walk down it.
And yep, down the end, is what I thought I might find, and that is Tung’s house, who we stayed with way back in 2017.
We have been back here since, but that was for a brief visit back in 2019, and after walking around in circles on an incredibly hot day, the memory on all things directional and landmark-y, was probably impacted somewhat by perhaps what could quite easily have been the early onset of heatstroke.
While I knew that Tung was down in this general direction, I thought he was much further over, and not terribly ‘walk friendly’ from where I’m staying.
But no, I was very wrong, and I can’t believe I’ve ended up here in this exact hem.
I send him a WhatsApp message asking him if he’s home, and he replies quickly that he is.
A few minutes later I’m sitting on a couch in his loungeroom, catching up on all things Vietnam, and anything else that has come up in the last four years.
It’s great to see him again, as well as his little dog, Winnie, and the hour we spend just chatting absolutely flies by.
The time arrives to make a move, and let Tung get back to work, and I bid him farewell until the next time.
Back out into the hems, and it’s time to reminisce a little. Down the end of the street, turn left, and I’m pretty sure I find the little mom and pop convenience store, that I purchased beer and water from a couple of times.
Ordinarily, a transaction like that wouldn’t be that memorable, but apart from the fact that they were both so lovely, it was the conversation I had with the old guy about water, that I remember so fondly, and still often tell people about.
Rather than repeating it, a copy and paste from Trip Report #19 – here – is, while a little lazy, far easier –
“Quickly remembering the less important thing I need, I say, “Water?”.
He has a puzzled look on his face, and doesn’t seem to know what I’m after.
Delving down deep into the dark recesses of my brain, I try to remember the Vietnamese word for ‘water’.
And surprisingly, I think I have it.
“Nuoc?”, I say, hoping that first of all that’s the right word, and second, that I’ve said it well enough that he can understand it.
“Ahhh, water!”, he responds, obviously saying it far better than I had just a few seconds earlier…”
I can’t see anyone there, and I’m not sure I’d recognise them anyway, assuming they are actually still there, so I continue on.
Down to the end, and yep, as expected, the seafood restaurant.
Around the corner, the apartment building on the right, and up past Tung’s again. Bit further up, turn left again, and into the hem where I sat and had a late afternoon beer, or two.
Back out to the main-ish road with the market opposite, and the reminiscing comes to an end.
It’s been great to see it again, and it reminds me of how much I enjoyed those few short days we had here six years ago.
I’m not sure we fully appreciated, or understood it, at the time, but it would be the beginning of the love affair we now have with Saigon.
It changed – probably forever, the way we see and experience this city.
Again, and not for the first time, it’s amazing where you end up on a journey like this.
Who would have thought, after those first two nights in Bui Vien Street, way back in 2014…..
Off back through the market, which is well and truly in the packing up stage, and I somehow manage to retrace my steps without looking at Google Maps once.
Looks worse when it’s mostly packed up.
Not because it was easy, but because I knew the general direction, it really didn’t bother me if I didn’t end up exactly where I was hoping to.
I mean really, who did I have waiting or relying on me getting back? And anyway, you often find the best stuff when you’re not actually looking for it.
Get to the next main-ish road, and take a chance on what I think is the really narrow hem. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it is the one I was looking for, and I head down without needing to await my turn.
Familiar hem found, and then my coffee shop, and with the time fast approaching 1.00pm, lunch feels like a good idea.
Bánh mì is the preferred option, and knowing that we went to two last year just up from the café, I make my way in that direction.
And there, over on the right, is a woman with a heap of bánh mì’s. And straight out of the oven!
“Ahhh, bánh mì’s!”, I say, and she nods with a smile. But even though she ‘makes’ them, she doesn’t actually make them. As in cut them open and fill them with the important stuff. She’s the actual baker.
I head up a little further, and not too many doors away, is a bánh mì cart, that I am positive we went to last time.
The girl serving them is slightly surprised to see me, but still very happy to help, and a bánh mì is promptly ordered.
It’s the cold meats variety, which is very Saigon-ish, and because Lisa isn’t here, I even have pate, despite not being a huge fan.
The chilli, however, is declined, partly because of the possibility of finding a really evil bit, and partly because of what it can do to me the next day.
And with a flight to catch in the morning, I’d rather not risk that.
Bánh mì delivered, and while I didn’t, and very rarely, if ever, ask for a price beforehand, I hand over a 50 000 Dong note, knowing there’s no way it will be more than that.
It’s not, and I’m given 30 000 Dong in change, along with a smile.
I head off to walk the hems, while enjoying my lunch, which just happens to be really good, even with the pate.
Bánh mì done, and legs starting to feel all the walking that’s been done, I make my way back to the LeBlanc. The traffic lights are still out, the resulting madness still a thing, and once all that is traversed, I head upstairs.
First port of call is to remove the puddle water and mud from this morning’s market, from not only my thongs, but also my feet and legs.
It’s quite impressive how far up stuff can splash.
A rest and recovery session quickly follows, with my bed sheets, as well as the person who will wash them, appreciative of my prior chore.
The R & R actually helps, and then a little after 2.00pm, I’m back outside in search of something cold and liquid.
Cà phê sữa đá ends up being the preferred, and with the easy option being our café, that’s where I go.
Like this morning, another large one (30 000 Dong) is ordered; really not sure why I had small yesterday; and the savouring begins, while watching the goings on.
Coffee reluctantly finished, and with it still being a little early for the beer thing, a bit more walking ensues.
This time, however, it’s over the other side of Nguyen Dinh Chieu. And just like our hems, as well as ‘our’ hems, which aren’t really our hems, I love them. They all have their own make up, and their own feel, and while they’re all hems, they all have their differences.
Walk most of the block of them, and then back to our hems. Again, completely different to the other side of Nguyen Dinh Chieu, with them being a bit more intimate and a little more residential, but just as interesting, and in some ways, a little more friendly.
But that’s probably only because it is more residential, and as such, has less hustle and bustle going on.
Back to the LeBlanc for a quick toilet stop, and then up to my beer place for the usual, just before 4.00pm.
It’s starting to rain a little, but nothing like last night, and I reach the challenge that is Dien Bien Phu Street.
Wait for a small gap, and as I make my way across, I realise they’ve seen me coming. Table and chair arranged before I’ve even reached the steps, and they can’t do enough for me.
It’s nice, as in incredibly nice, but at the same time, I am slightly embarrassed by it.
Back doing my thing, while the world does its, and a new level of happiness has been attained at just 24 000 Dong a bottle.
Quite possibly the most important delivery person there is!
The usual sights in front of me, including the rubbish guys from last year. Same old, same old, but never boring, and the thankless job they do is just so admirable.
You wouldn’t find too many in Australia prepared to do what they do.
The guy who helps the elderly, but really not that elderly, local lady across the busy road, before returning to his beer.
The appreciation shown by the woman once on the other side, as well as the act of kindness from the good Samaritan, caused a slight blurring of my vision.
Then there was the second guy, who like the chicken, just needed to get to the other side.
Step out into the traffic, find a small gap, and take a few steps. Gap closes, so stops. But stops in a way that also stops a couple of bike riders, who both then also have to wait for a gap, all because this guy thinks he has the power of a traffic police officer.
Gap opens, guy moves on a little further, and bike riders are now free to continue their journey.
It’s certainly not the way that I would do it, or recommend, but I guess we all have our ways.
Will be interesting to see who lives the longest….
One beer down, and while it’s all very pleasant from here inside, the desire to sit outside, under the awning, is strong.
The move is made, and the second beer is soon enjoyed much closer to the action.
Footpath. Beer. Vietnamese life. Rain. Happiness!
I sense something move under my chair, and something races by. It’s a rat, and it’s quickly followed by a second one. They’re both now a fair way from their home, which is over near where the rubbish gets piled up, but they really don’t seem to care.
In fact, they appear to be enjoying themselves, playing and chasing each other.
All of a sudden they race back from where they came, right under my chair, and almost across my thong clad feet.
I look up at one of the young beer guys who has also seen them, and he has the same surprised look on his face that I do.
It really was quite funny, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen rats playing like that before, nor had them run so close past my feet.
Another beer had, more world watching, but no more rats, and another constant is the lotto ticket sellers. Mostly, but not exclusively, women, they do a lot of walking for what I believe is very little reward.
And some of them do it far tougher than others.
They tend to leave foreigners alone, instead focusing on the locals, but occasionally I do get approached.
One little old lady, who is one that seems to do it harder than most, does in fact approach me.
From previous experience, the tickets are 10 000 Dong each, so I hold up ten fingers in an enquiring manner.
She nods, so I indicate I would like two. Two are picked from her pile, 20 000 Dong handed over, and I return one of the tickets to her.
She’s a little surprised, but at the same time appears appreciative, as she heads off. I have no idea if she will keep the ticket herself, or if she will sell the ticket again, and to be honest, I’d be happy with either scenario. As I said, they work hard for not much, and I don’t mind helping one or two out occasionally.
Beers done, and while the rain has been a little off and on, I take the opportunity to make a move while it’s in the ‘off’ mode.
Bar tab fixed up, and a hẹn gặp lại (see you soon) given, the courage is plucked up to once again cross Dien Bien Phu.
Gap found, crossing complete, and the beef skewers cooking on the barbeque at the bánh mì vendor just down the road, grab my attention via my nose.
For some reason I’m a little hungry, and with the smell making resistance difficult, I quickly give in.
It comes with cucumber and a little chilli, all for the grand total of 19 000 Dong, and it’s as good as it smells cooking on the barbeque.
Eat it on the way down, with a slight detour over to my beer guy, and with no Saigon Beer cans cold, I go with my second choice of ba ba ba, otherwise known as 333, also at 12 000 Dong each.
I can’t walk away after reconnecting with him yesterday, so I use Google Translate to tell him I’ll be back in a few weeks, and give him a hẹn gặp lại.
Down towards the LeBlanc, thankfully for everyone, the traffic lights are back doing their thing, and upstairs for a much needed shower to remove the remaining puddle water from this morning.
A few notes, a quick catch up with Facebook, which then results in an unexpected Facebook phone call, from someone we haven’t seen for four years.
It’s Trinity, who I originally met through Trip Advisor, and who we finally met, albeit very briefly, the day we landed in Siem Reap back in 2019, not too many months before the world changed.
She’s in Singapore, but more specifically, a lounge at Changi Airport, awaiting a flight back to Australia, enjoying the spoils of what the aforementioned lounges offer.
We end up talking for ages, and it once again makes me stop and think about all the things we’ve done, and all the people we’ve met, since this journey first began.
Back outside around 7.00pm to do something about dinner, and because it’s close, as well as really good, the loose plan is last night’s place, if something else doesn’t jump out at me before I get there.
Nothing jumps out, so loose plan becomes the plan, as I arrive.
They’re busy, like real busy, but there’s no way they’re going to disappoint me.
A spot is quickly found, and I soon have my dinner in front of me. With them being so busy, I forgo the beer, so the guy can concentrate on delivering the food his wife is dishing up.
Just as good as last night.
Food, not surprisingly, is enjoyed just as much as last night, while my second rat encounter of the day plays out, when one scampers past my table.
They’re rather cute, in their little rat like way.
Dinner done, 50 000 Dong bill fixed up, and the walk up to my beer place begins.
Get to Dien Bien Phu, pluck up the courage to cross it, and step out. Part way across, and like this afternoon, they see me coming.
The fussing of organising where I’m going to sit begins, and once again, I feel a little embarrassed by it.
Like my dinner place, they are busy, and far busier than last night, but they find me a little spot to do my thing. All the tables are being used, so a beer crate is utilised as a makeshift table, which to me is a far more interesting table, anyway.
Sit, watch that world, do a bit of Trip Advisoring, along with a little life contemplation, and spend more time than I probably should, admiring the Saigon Beer dragon on both the bottles and the glass.
Love the table, and love the dragon!
The main guy, the very guy that had a horrified look on his face when I first walked in 12 months ago, to the point that he really looked like he wished I’d turn around and immediately walk out again, gives me a smile as he walks past.
He comes across as a bit of a grumpy prick at times, and often gives very little away. But every now and then he gives you something, and when he does, you know it’s genuine.
We’ve come a long way in the last year, and I really do think he enjoys seeing me here in his bar.
A few beers had, and as they start to wind down, I decide to do the same. Well, here anyway, as it being not yet, but also not far off, 9.30pm, I ain’t yet done.
Bill for my 24 000 Dong beers fixed up, and I use Google Translate to tell my man that I’ll be back in a few weeks.
He smiles, and shakes my hand.
Back across a now much quieter Dien Bien Phu street, and down towards the LeBlanc in even much quieter streets and hems.
It’s so quiet, calming even, and is just so very different to daytime Saigon.
I love it, and I love this city.
The dark, and very quiet, hems of Saigon.
Into the nearby convenience store for supplies of more beer and a packet of chips, for a total of 38 000 Dong, and I take the opportunity to rid myself of some of the accumulated paper notes that are preventing my wallet from folding properly.
Wallet much happier, I make my way back up to the room for the usual.
A WhatsApp message from Lisa results in a 40-minute Facebook phone call, and by 11.30pm, it’s time to bring the day to a close.
It’s been one of those nothing sort of days, with the highlight seemingly a walk. But it was far from a nothing day, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
I’ve really enjoyed the very short couple of days I’ve had here in Saigon, and the absolute love I found for this area one year ago, is still well and truly there.
In fact, it may even be stronger now.
First little part of the trip essentially done, with a 10.00am flight to Hanoi tomorrow morning.
Alarm set for 6.30am, which then reminds me that I still haven’t changed that annoying tune that started to bother me the last time we were here.
Oh well, not going to risk mucking up my alarm now.
Cheers,
Scott
seriouslynot 