Monday 25 September – Saigon
Awake at 5.30am. As too is Saigon.
I have no desire, however, to join them.
Back to sleep, and then up at 7.45am. I feel okay, but it’s still lingering.
Whatever ‘it’ is.
Downstairs and outside by 8.30am. I didn’t really notice it a few weeks ago, but the entrance to our hem has a slightly different feel and appearance to last year. Or maybe it’s just different to what my memory is telling me?
Don’t know, but there just seems to be more food carts around. There’s even a coffee machine nearby, like you’d find at home, which only serves to remind me, that I have absolutely no desire to partake in any type of coffee I can easily obtain at home.
Over to Diagonal Street, and down to our café. The Vietnamese American guy, who I chatted to four weeks ago, is there, and as we walk up, says, “Cà phê sữa đá?”
The answer is most definitely a Yes!, and he promptly orders two of the large variety for us.
He’s a really nice guy, and I love that he remembers me from almost a month ago.
The owner appears a few minutes later, with our coffees and complimentary trà đá’s, and gives us an acknowledging smile when he sees who the drinks are actually for.
We sit, savour, and just generally watch the world go by, including a small white dog, sitting in a basket attached to a scooter, sporting dyed pink ears, with matching tail. Followed not much later by a brown poodle, with this one having undergone the same treatment, but this time with a batch of orange dye.
The older Grab guy, who I noticed the last time I was here, who is sitting on a timber dining chair over the road, with feet resting on his bike, has now fallen asleep. Their knack to sleep pretty much anywhere, has always amazed and impressed me.
All the while, as the café’s playlist of songs, emanate from the overhead speakers.
It’s all 60’s stuff; some Beatles, amongst others, and even the song Mellow Yellow, which I haven’t heard for years.
They’re all, well, in my opinion, really good songs, but they’re making me feel emotional.
It’s making me think of the movie Good Morning Vietnam, which then has me thinking of Robin Williams, which then makes think about the Vietnam war.
All while simply watching Saigon life in front of me, unfold.
It feels like I’m watching a documentary, with background music, and for some reason everything I’m seeing seems far more highlighted, and somehow more real.
It’s strange, and I’m struggling to control my emotions, including trying to stop my eyes from blurring my vision, due to an excess of fluid.
While I don’t really understand why, I suspect it’s because I’m well aware that our time is fast disappearing, and right now I’m really, like really, really, not quite ready to say goodbye to Saigon, and all of Vietnam, just yet.
Deep breath taken, welling of eyes controlled, all while keeping my weakness a secret from Lisa, so as not to debunk the myth of the manly husband she thinks she’s married to.
The fruit and vegetable guy.
Bill of 60 000 Dong fixed up, we head back down Diagonal Street to the Le Blanc, for a quick toilet stop to deal with my still lingering issue.
It’s frustrating, but it could be far worse, I guess.
Back out around 10.00am, and we make our way in the very general direction of Bui Vien Street, to ultimately end up at Ben Thanh market.
Through the hems, and while I never tire of them, there’s one or two that are somewhat impacting me today.
It’s the smells; all pleasant enough food smells; but they’re hitting me hard. My sense of smell is working overtime, and it’s all just a bit too much, and a bit too overpowering.
We push on, eventually reaching Sign Street, which probably isn’t surprising, seeing as the hems always seem to direct us here.
Adjustment is made, and we begin heading across to the left. A little forethought, which is often a little rarer than I’d like, is offered to Lisa when I see a lady with a bánh mì cart on the side of the road.
Seeing the word ốp la, the question is asked if she’d like breakfast, to which she replies that she can wait.
That’s fine, but knowing where we’re heading, which is pretty much tourist central, and knowing that the question of food won’t be too far away, I explain that we’re either doing something now, or it’s going to be quite the wait, because I ain’t buying food anywhere near Bui Vien or Ben Thanh market.
Fortunately, she makes the correct decision, for both of us, and one bánh mì ốp la (15 000 Dong) is promptly ordered.
We continue on, and as we get closer to Ben Thanh, the landscape, and scenes, begin to change, but not in a good way.
All the contrived stuff; the scrum of excited tourists, which of course brings all the tourist oriented touts vying for a slice of the pie, along with the thick smell of durian in the air.
How I love this area…..
We get to the side of the market, and it’s madness, but yep, as expected, the exchange places are there.
A quick check of a thread or two on the Tripadvisor forum, to confirm we’re in the right spot, but done in a slightly protected area, with my back against a wall, and standing nowhere near the road. I really don’t trust this part of the city.
As we’re standing there, while I look at my phone, a shoe repair tout tries his luck by approaching Lisa.
Without missing a beat, he is immediately shooed away with deft aplomb.
So proud!
Confirmation gained, XE.com is then looked at. 15 650 Dong to 1AUD, is the quote.
I head over, wait my turn, and the answer to my question is 15 650, which is what XE just told me.
The deal is done, and a small looking $500 is turned into a much larger looking 7 825 000 Dong.
It’s counted in front of him before I leave, even though I saw him count it out, and a cảm ơn given.
Lisa is retrieved, and we head down the side of the market, before navigating the big open area, in front of it.
And that particular area, which, while I know is essentially just a very large intersection, just isn’t, in my opinion, helped by the excess of barren area surrounding it. I’ve always thought that it does Saigon absolutely no favours whatsoever, when it comes to the aesthetics of the city.
Ben Thanh market. Unfortunately, just not my kind of place.
We eventually reach the other side, and then veer off to the right, down one of the slightly smaller roads that will take us to the canal.
It’s no hem, but interesting enough in its own right, with a few locals selling various bits and pieces on the footpath.
The other noticeable thing, at least to me, is the number of banks in this street. Not so much big head office type arrangements, although they could be I suppose, but more advertising signs stuck on the front of buildings, indicating a branch, or ATM, is nearby.
I’ve always known Vietnam had a few banks, but this just helped to confirm it.
We reach the canal, sort of, and turn left, walking beside the road. Being so close, or more knowing that you are, it kind of promises so much, but with several lanes of road between us and the water, getting closer isn’t really an option.
I’m not sure there’s anything over there, anyway.
On we go, past the Saigon Stock Exchange building, which has a nice bull and bear statue out the front, while also getting occasional glimpses of the Bitexco Tower. It’s all pleasant enough, but it’s a bit of a mix of stuff; some old-ish and rustic, some new and modern; with it all looking like a work in progress. But at the same time, with it also not really looking like there’s anything progressing at all.
Weren’t even looking for it, but we found the stock exchange.
We eventually reach a point where the road is now crossable, and with an open area on the other side, along with a pedestrian bridge, we make our way over.
Into a very small park, for want of a better word, past the usual sign explaining all the things that you can’t do, including hunting with a gun, and / or setting up a prostitution business, and then up some stairs to the pedestrian bridge.
It’s good to know beforehand….
Photo bomb the three or four guys at the top of the stairs, doing some sort of photoshoot; or maybe just one of those Tic Toc things; and then make our way onto the bridge proper.
We begin heading across, and while it gives reasonable views of the city around us, as well as a light cooling breeze, the rubbish in the water, along with a slightly unpleasant smell in the air, detracts somewhat from the whole experience.
Taking a closer look at the other side is considered, but with only busy roads and mostly modern looking buildings visible, it’s decided it’s probably, rightly or wrongly, not worth the effort.
And anyway, we’ve already walked a bit, it’s rather warm, despite the breeze, and it’s probably time we found a cold drink.
Looking back towards District 1, with the easily recognisable Bitexco Tower, appearing to protrude from the white building on the right.
Back the way we came, over the road, and just a bit past the stock exchange, we find a small café down what appears to be a bit of a driveway.
Easy decision made, we head down.
The female owner is lovely, and we quickly have two cà phê sữa đá’s (20 000 Dong each), along with complimentary trà đá, while sitting in the shade outside.
The world is watched, coffees savoured, and energy levels are restored, before we begin our walk ‘home’.
Footsteps are retraced, and we’re soon back in the big open area in front of Ben Thanh market. We make it across, walking past a poor local, copping a traffic infringement fine from a police officer; yep, been there….., sort of; then up beside the market with absolutely no desire whatsoever to head in.
Up towards Tao Dan Park, and into Sporting Apparel Street. A coconut vendor has a family of four bailed up, and while it’s all rather jovial at the moment, I know it’s likely to be a shock to the system, when the inevitable overcharging for a cheap coconut becomes apparent.
I feel bad, and I kind of want to step in and end the ‘transaction’, but with coconut guy possessing a cleaver, I decide it’s perhaps best I mind my own business.
We continue on, and while the street is mostly shaded, and therefore cool-ish and pleasant, it ain’t no hem.
Reaching a T-intersection , and waiting briefly for a small gap in the traffic, another, older, coconut seller approaches us, with coconuts hanging off his stick.
He begins to interact, as they do, by both chatting and playing the good Samaritan and attempting to help us across the road.
That is most definitely not going to happen, and his offer is declined in a swift, but still friendly-ish, manner.
Just another example of why I like where we stay.
Down in the direction of the Le Blanc, still on another dull and boring road, and seeing a ‘thegioididong’ electronics store over on the right, we take the opportunity to buy a new USB cable, after someone left ours back at Green Village, yesterday.
Lisa looks after the ‘purchasing’ side of things, partly because I don’t know exactly what it is that we require, and partly because, well, she’s the reason why we’re actually here in the first place, while I merely stand by and enjoy the store’s air conditioning.
190 000 Dong later, and we’re back outside to complete the journey ‘home’, taking the first opportunity we have to rid ourselves of big, busy, boring roads, by disappearing down the hems.
Back to the Le Blanc a bit after 1.00pm, for an hour long rest and recovery session, before heading out to do something about lunch.
Down to Diagonal Street, up to our bánh mì place from yesterday, and then a walk of the hems while enjoying said bánh mì.
Finding a laundry place on our travels, we call in to check time frames, with the result being that not terribly surprisingly, yes, same day can be achieved.
Mental note is taken, and we now have a small chore to do on Wednesday.
A bit more walking, and with a desire for a cold drink building, we head over to find our little café from yesterday.
She has a big smile on her face as she sees us approach, and as we do, her customers, who are the same ones that were there yesterday, do the same, as they shuffle along to make room for us.
With a preference to perhaps try something a little different, her list of drinks, of which there are a few, is perused, but Google Translate doesn’t instill a huge amount of confidence in its accuracy.
We instead, again with Google, but also some arm waving and finger pointing, ask her to choose something, and we end up with an orange flavoured drink with a little condensed milk, along with something that contains tamarind, as well as whatever else.
They’re nice, and it’s always good to try different stuff, but they were perhaps a little on the sweet side.
Which is probably not surprising, seeing as it tends to be the Vietnam way.
We chat with her, as best we can, and it appears her name is Nga. She’s 44, her husband a little older, and they have a son who is 15.
Nga and Lisa spend considerable time doing the mother thing, by comparing phone photos of kids, interspersed with a fair bit of Google Translating.
She’s lovely, and oh so genuine, and it’s not long until selfies become the thing.
With our cafe lady, Nga.
Drinks (15 000 Dong each), and photos, done, with a definitely meant hẹn gặp lại thrown in, we head off for a bit more walking of the hems, before returning to the Le Blanc around 4.00pm.
Lisa dropped off, and then I’m off to do my thing. Across the busy road, and with a spot free outside, I don’t even need to walk inside, nor even order a beer, because as usual, they see me coming.
Once again in my happy place, of beers and world watching, when all of a sudden I sense a presence off to the right of me.
I turn to take a look, and discover it’s a shoe cleaner guy, looking and pointing at my thongs.
As I’m about to politely decline, I realise who he is. He’s my shoe cleaner guy from last year, who, despite looking out for him, I’d not seen this trip, and here he now is, standing in front of me with a huge smile on his face.
It’s great to see him again, and before I have a chance to say anything, he reaches out and shakes my hand.
I’m blown away that he remembers, and I can guarantee it means more than he could possibly imagine.
He heads off with a wave of the hand, and I’m left shaking my head at our ‘reacquaintance’.
Back to world watching, and I’m soon joined by three local guys on the table next to me. One of whom is incredibly keen to engage in conversation, which, with a rather large language barrier between us, is a little problematic.
It, however, doesn’t deter my mate, who decides that if I’m struggling to understand, then the solution to that is to talk more, and to talk quicker.
He’s a lovely guy, and I loved that he made the effort, but it doesn’t take long before the ‘talking’ is simply replaced with many, and frequent, ‘cheers’-ings.
A few more beers, more familiar faces, with the rubbish / recycling guys turning up on time, and those 60’s songs from this morning, still bouncing around in my head.
They get me again, as Saigon does its thing in front of me, which worries me more than just a little.
If I’m like this now, how am I going to be when the time actually comes?
Getting close to 6.00pm, I head off, and down to my takeaway beer guy. As he sees me coming, he holds up eight fingers.
With a couple of days still to go, I could get eight, but I actually want to keep coming back to see him each night, so I shake my head with a smile, and say ‘sáu’ (six).
He smiles, duly obliges, and I head off with a hẹn gặp lại.
Back to the Le Blanc, another beer, a couple of notes, and a quick shower, and then out to do something about dinner.
The temptation is to simply return to last night’s place; and I would have no problem doing so; but the decision is made to try and mix it up.
Downstairs, open mind very much with us, and we don’t have to go far before we have an alternate option, with it being found right at the entrance to our hem.
It’s rice, and what looks like maybe pork, along with, I don’t know, some other stuff. But that’s not overly important right now, as this will be the place.
We show some interest, and the initial reaction is of shock and nervousness, but also a little excitement.
They quickly get themselves organised, while we take a seat, and we soon have a plate of rice, the pork, some sort of rissole thing, along with a small assortment of greens, as well as a bowl of a watery, but nice, pumpkin soup.
I ask the beer question, and a look of confusion appears on their faces, until the penny drops with the guy.
He rifles through his cash, finds a 50 000 Dong note, and thrusts it towards the girl, indicating, while saying the word ‘Saigon’, to go and procure said beers.
It was funny to watch the ‘discussion’ unfold, and sure enough, a couple of minutes later, we have two Saigon beers.
The food is good, and the setting, well, right up my alley. Or maybe hem. Sorry…..
A couple of young kids come over, who may be the owner’s children, and it appears they’d like an opportunity to practice their English.
Absolutely no problem at all, so we spend a few minutes chatting to them.
Food, and ‘lesson’, done, and bill of 130 000 Dong (2×50 000 and 2×15 000???) fixed up, and we make a move from a ‘dining experience’, that ended up being a little more significant, than it first appeared it would.
And not because of any one big reason, but more just because of a number of small moments that occurred as the whole thing played out.
Their initial surprise and nervousness when they saw us, but then composing themselves and doing what they would do for any local who turned up. The beer request, which at first was not understood, but only because they wouldn’t have been expecting it, due to the fact that most locals probably don’t request the same. But once they realised, they couldn’t do enough, as is the Vietnamese way, to please, and make it happen.
And then the English lesson, which is always enjoyable, but perhaps more so due to the fact that they felt comfortable enough to actually approach us.
Yep, again, just those little insignificant things, that become, and are, so much more.
Up to our beer place, and they make a fuss to get us comfortable at one of the outside tables. It’s nice, as in really nice, but they really are making it more difficult for when the time comes…..
We sit, watch, Lisa helps out with taking photos for the table next to us, and we chat a bit with one of the young girls, who is actually, originally, from Cambodia.
It would be nice to know her story, but the language barrier hinders us from finding out too much.
One customer nearby has clearly had a bit more than he can handle, and has now lost the ability to keep his eyes open.
He has, however, maintained the ability to remain on his seat, but only just.
A taxi is called, and a few minutes later it pulls up out the front. One of the guys from the bar, with the help of the taxi driver, manage to help him across to the car, and then ‘pour’ him in.
The taxi driver looks across at me, and gives me a knowing smile.
I loved that he was so willing to help; wouldn’t happen, perhaps understandably, back in Melbourne; and hope that he got him home with his car remaining as clean as when the journey first began.
More sitting, and more watching of night time Saigon. The rubbish / recycling guys doing their never ending job, and then the guy with the food cart, doing something that seems to revolve around eggs.
I’m not sure exactly what, but a few of the staff promptly partook as soon as he arrived, even encouraging me to do the same.
While tempted, I was still working on what I had already eaten.
Has quite the kitchen set up!
Getting close to 9.30pm, and with Lisa requiring, but not wanting to use, the bar’s toilet, we decide to call it a night.
Back down towards the Le Blanc, and part way along, I give her a challenge of, “You get me ‘home’.”
“Okay, I will”, is the response, but I have little to no confidence of it actually happening.
She then duly delivers, by turning off just halfway along.
While we could still get back going that way, the rabbit warren of hems, particularly in the dark, will be all too confusing, and will result in learning nothing.
We continue on the easier and more direct route, and she’s now annoyed at me, as she thinks I’m enjoying it.
I’m not, and I’m actually annoyed.
But at me, as I’ve allowed her to merely follow, as I kind of take control on our wanderings around the hems, and streets, of this area.
We turn off at Diagonal Street, landmarks, well, landmarks to me, pointed out, and then make our way down to the intersection.
We’re that close now that she couldn’t possibly get lost; I think; so I hand her the key while I go and get some supplies of soft drink and chips.
Supplies retrieved, I head back and nervously knock on the door, wondering if she managed to make it.
She did, which is reassuring, and when I walk in, she actually admits she needs to be better.
I’m pleased about that, because it makes me right, which doesn’t happen that often.
But more importantly, it’s nice to know she wants to change things a bit.
Onto the bed for the usual, along with ridiculous, and probably unhealthy, amounts of contemplation.
One full day down, just two to go, and while we were always going to return here after last year’s visit, I’m even more pleased now that we didn’t actually alter our plans, and try somewhere else.
We’re in one very large, bustling city, but walking these hems, you’d hardly know it.
I’ve used the word ‘community’ before, and it is, but the longer we stay here, the closer knit it actually feels. A bit like a small country town, where everyone knows each other; is sort of how it feels to me.
These people; they were friendly last year; but this year that friendliness feels like it’s on another level.
We get the occasional smile from a local, one that we don’t know or don’t recognise, and while I’ve always simply thought of it as someone being friendly, I now suspect it might be a bit more than that.
Maybe it’s that we’re getting recognised?
Maybe we’re even being talked about, due to those community connections?
I don’t know, it just feels different. But most definitely good different.
It gets me thinking about the often talked about differences between the Northern Vietnamese, and the Southern Vietnamese.
I’ve always said that I find the Vietnamese, all over the country, incredibly friendly, with the one caveat being, that you will not find a friendlier local than a Mekong local.
And I still stand by that.
But now, here, in Saigon, I can’t help but feel that there might actually something to the chat, or discussion, of the North versus South thing.
I’m not going to lose sleep over it, and I’m unlikely to change my initial thoughts on the subject; we’ve met, and still see, a lot of amazing people up North; but these people down here, with their friendliness, their genuineness, and their desire to please, have made me stop and think.
And that annoys me a little, as I don’t want it to look like a criticism, because it’s certainly not, of the Northerners, as well as the fact that I also don’t really want to have my mind changed.
Yep, that’s probably got a bit to do with my stubbornness tendencies…..
Cheers,
Scott
seriouslynot 