Ho Chi Minh City

Midnight in Saigon.

I'm feeling sort of sick and achey, mostly in my swollen throat and head, which I'd like to attribute to the interminable dust and particulate matter kicked up into the city air by the relentless brigade of motorbikes in this city (see picture). The things are famously ruthless and everywhere, like hornets on wheels, with little regard for traffic light patterns, and no qualms about riding any which way on the sidewalks. The theme of navigating Ho Chi Minh is playing an advanced and cynical game of 'Frogger' as one hops across the street from safety to safety. The symbiotic chaos of pedestrian and vehicle traffic is sort of fun, so long as one musters up some grit, sets the determined jaw half a block in advance, and assumes the buggers operate on self-interest. They wouldn't actually hit me, would they?

By no means quiet at any hour, the city's frenetic pace does slow at night, and walking home last night (Saturday night), our little residential neighborhood was positively tranquil. We had been out people watching over Indian food and then beers at a bar geared towards unruly Westerners. 'Guess the nationality' was a fun activity, and the cover band's gritty-voiced lead reviewed all the hits from 'Oooo Baby It's a Wild World' to 'Brown-eyed Girl.'

We set off to the Cuchi tunnels today, and from there on to Dalat. Our two days in HCMC have been largely successful--museums, cafes, shopping, and wandering. I negotiated a rock-bottom price on flip-flops to replace the broken ones boring into my toe, and I snagged some knock-off Puma sneakers in the deal. We relaxed over iced coffees and hashed out itinerary ideas (firmed up nothing, of course).

Of more gravity in our schedule were our trips to the Reunification Palace (formerly the President's Palace, site of the famous helicopter evacuations in the hectic last days of April, 1975) and the War Remnants museum. Both obviously presented a starkly different perspective on the Vietnam War than the gloss-over I got as an American schoolkid. I wasn't really prepared for the guilt, though. To these nationalistic and proud people, the 'American War' was an absolutely unjustified, brutal act of aggression for the purpose of propping up a despotic and nepotistic leader, Diem. As you walk around the War Remnants 'War Crimes' section, viewing photos of the most atrocious and stomach churning acts of depraved violence, it's hard to see the American perspective. The pictures were just awful. A Vietnamese POW being chucked out of a flying helicopter. A GI holding the head and dripping skin of an obliterated peasant. A cleft-lipped girl holding her limbless brother. What the hell were we thinking with that Agent Orange stuff anyway? I realize there was a biased viewpoint at work here--the museum is owned and run by the government--and the goal was to shock and sober. Still I was surprised that I who was once a student of Vietnam media had never seen 98% of the gory, terrible images on exhibit. I was nauseous and had to go outside for air.

Back on happier notes, other HCMC highlights included drinks at the rooftop bar of the Rex hotel. Pho at the tiniest of street stalls in a locals-only back alley (not a breath of English here!). A great meal at the cavernous and bustling Quan An Ngoc restaurant.

I like the vibe of this town. It puts NYC's 'never sleep' maxim to shame. With breathable air, this could be a really nice place. Real sidewalks would be fun too.

More to come,
Sarah