tunnel entrance
Saigon is a heady mix of stunning sights and insistent noise, the 8 million Vietnamese crammed into this southern city all players in a daily drama of dollar making in energy sapping heat and a general calamity on the streets. We have just returned from a 5 day sojourn to Ho Chi Min City, still called Saigon by locals and visitors alike, a stay punctuated by frenetic shopping, great food and a palpable feeling of something changing for this oft subjugated city.
The Caravelle hotel is a 5 star glittering palace in the center of Saigon’s French colonial heart and our room was expansive, luxurious and looked out upon the Opera House and the slightly faded glory of pre war landmarks made famous in print and on screen. We don’t usually stay in such accommodation, but 4 nights felt right for a little treat. I was vaguely disturbed by the service, which included staff coming in the evening to turn the bed down for us! As you can imagine, every possible facility was on call an included, lagoon size pools and spas, liveried doormen and silk swathed attendants everywhere we turned. The dichotomy of the air-conditioned luxury of the Caravelle and the conference centre’s Sheraton with a marble sheathed reception area the size of a football field and golden staircases sweeping to level upon level of decadence with the sweat laden streets of bustling humanity was quite staggering.
From street hawkers and vendors of any imaginable ware to rickshaw drivers and shoe shiners and beggars with tattered cap in hand, a walk down the street was a combat zone every time. Distressing sights of napalmed and Agent Orange affected street beggars were quite confronting and we often gave money as we walked along. 10,000 Vietnamese dong seemed very acceptable to most of them and 80 cents was just a token from us. Men and women of all shapes and sizes asked us to buy local fruits and coconuts, books and shirts, paintings and flowers and all manner of other goods. We bought a few things from the street: a lovely drawing of bamboo on silk, a Harley welded from nuts and bolts and another fashioned from different types of wood. Cass bought some salad servers made from buffalo horn, some oyster forks carved from shell and some intricately embroidered placemats and serviettes. The people were always happy enough to go on if we pleasantly smiled and declined their offers politely. One night out we were amazed to see a woman running round a corner screaming what seemed like a warning. In the blink of an eye, the whole streetscape changed as paintings and ornaments were whisked away and the police rounded the corner to find nothing but huddles of people sharing a smoke and a chat. Not two minutes later, it was business as usual.
A distinctive French flavour still wafts through the streets of Saigon and colonnaded, narrow, brightly coloured houses rise imperiously above the street, often housing a French or Vietnamese cuisine restaurant. We enjoyed the subtle, light flavours of Vietnamese food many times during our stay, served in beautiful surroundings and with a flair and attention to detail rarely seen. Another great find was a place called “Saigon Underground, with an extensive menu of British food, Mexican, pizza, Indian and nearly everything else! The variety was extensive and delicious; we’ll be able to last a couple of months before we get home now. We had scrumptious baguettes for lunch a couple of times and intensely flavoured, strong coffees whenever the whim took us. We ate at a delightful outdoor café for breakfast a couple of times in the shadow of the Opera House. Pancakes and delicate fruit plates were enjoyed with coffee; with fans blowing the finest of water mists over the diners to cool down a sweating brow! One morning’s breakfast was taken at a patisserie opposite complete with beer swilling French tourists; 9 in the morning was a little early for us!!
The Saigon River wends its way through the city and wafts a cooling afternoon breeze over the city’s seething mass of humanity. The waterway is the blood vessel of the city, bringing the most massive of ships right into the city’s heart. It is a foul looking, deep and fast flowing body of water and it pumps people and goods in and away all day and all night. The hinterland of this lifeline sits beside the over 200 km of the Cu Chi tunnels, a labyrinth of underground tunnels and rooms which held out the might of the American military in the war. We took a tour 60 km away from the city to visit the tunnels. The trip out was fascinating as the city crush eventually evaporated to reveal farmers and water buffalo and riverside humpies from which I half expected to see John Rambo emerge!
The tunnels, although over commercialized to an extent now, did reveal a chilling history of ingenuity and chillingly efficient ways to kill Americans. The tunnels have been widened in part to allow tourists to fit. I squirreled my way down 200 metres of one and the dark was absolute and the claustrophobia close to overwhelming. Even smaller, with the stench of 100s of soldiers and the constant shock of massive bombing raids is impossible to imagine. Some of the traps set for the Americans were extreme; these young men from both sides suffering horrendous deaths for no reason. Old men with fat bellies and dreams of power continue to send young men to their deaths now; hard to contemplate how this can continue to happen.
Shopping was not something we expected to do much of, but as our stay unfolded, we did more and more. We had just turfed out a stack of clothes back here in Taipei, me dispensing with decade old triathlon shirts and Cass culling her wardrobe. We were astounded how cheap things were in Saigon and the cavernous Banh Trangh markets were quite a shopping Mecca. I loaded up on loads of t-shirts and polos for school and Cass got some quite exquisite silk shirts and singlets along with lots of perfume. Cassy also found a tailor to make a replica of her favorite jacket and pants, this time in lined heavy linen. It is nearly impossible to tell if these things are knock offs or just sourced from Vietnamese factories. With my shirts, I suspect the latter and shudder at the markup these goods receive back home. At another market I bought a range of latest movie DVDs and bought the whole 10 series of Friends for hardly more than one series would cost back here. Ross bought all the AbFabs and we bought our single movies together, not replicating any, getting even more bang for our buck when we swap them later on. Cassy also bought some amazing ruby earrings and a loose ½ carat diamond for a future ring design and the while she pored over showcase after showcase I was left to deflect scores of sellers on the street outside!
I did buy a book from one, which I am reading now, written by a North Vietnamese soldier. It is both hauntingly beautiful in parts and shockingly brutal in others, a fine counter balance to the screeds of American commentary on this tragic war. Back in Taipei now, it feels a little less like an exotic Asian city and a little more like home, with all our “things”, the cats and our familiar places. As we sat on at the rooftop bar of our hotel on Saturday night, gazing out on the lights and soaking up the sounds of this quite entrancing city, in the words of Cold Chisel, we could definitely feel “..a Vietnam cold turkey..”, but also a strong desire to explore more of this sometimes sad but always beautiful country.