(Maarten and Sarah)18 February 2006
Yes, I know I should be calling it Ho Chi Minh City. Just in case I forget, the Vinas have established four (4) museums dedicated to him in the former American imperialist stronghold. And there's the Ho Chi Minh Park, plus numerous statues of him in the now familiar socialist realism style.
At the Ho Chi Minh Museum (as opposed to the Museum of Ho Chi Minh), I saw dozens of socialist realism posters released to celebrate the 115th anniversary of his birth on 19 May 2005. Obviously a big occasion.
There were also the carpentry tools used to build a memorial pagoda to him in his home Nghe An province on display. And a map of all the other HCM museums in the southern part of VN, complete with blinking lights.
I also learned some new information about the great man, which I had previously considered impossible. His impromptu boat trip to France and subsequent life as a waiter slash social dissident was particularly interesting. But in general, for everything you wanted to know about Uncle Ho but were too afraid to ask, just get a job at Radio Voice of Vietnam. He's always big news.
As my friend Chi Linh drove me around the wide streets of this modern young city, optomistic in the sunlight, I saw several warplanes out the front of other HCM museums. But I'd had enough education for one day.
After moping throughout December and January in the damp gloom of Hanoi, Saigon's beach holiday weather blissed me out. Just as in Thailand, Laos and, to a lesser extent, Cambodia, I could access mobile street stalls, with iced-up fresh-sliced fruit served to you in plastic bags with wooden skewers. The papaya was as sweet and smooth as you could imagine, and just 25 US cents a bag.
I also spent a little time gossiping in the street, with limited success due to my lamentable northern accent. The dialect here is more different than I had thought, so I've embarrassed myself a few times. But hey, as long as the world's laughing, you can at least IMAGINE it's laughing with you.
The food here is incredible. Saigon's like the sophisticated big sister to her brash, grubby kid brother Hanoi. Although there are some parts of Hanoi that are just exquisite, HCMC's far more sensibly planned. It feels roomy, even though it has a population of 7 million, double that of the northern capital.
And possibly due to the weather, HCMC citizens are a little more chilled out than their northern compatriots. Coming from the intense direct marketing appeals (i.e. begging) sent my way in Cambodia, I've been feeling downright snoozy here.
There's even places you can sit on the grass. And a strange park with dozens of abstract statues in marble dotted among trees all ringed with a one-meter bottom layer of white paint to keep pests away. In 1000 years, archeologists will be mystified by the disorderliness of the design, as were many of the locals in the park when I was there. But as a Westerner, I liked it.
As for the food? Dig in - it's certainly better value than Hanoi. I've had some delicious dishes here: crispy tofu squares stuffed with lemongrass and garlic, garnished with salad, chilli nuoc mam (fish sauce) and served on a bed of rice. The eateries just by the central market are a great value and a good opportunity to hobnob with the locals. It was there that I had the most tender beef since I've come to South East Asia, stir-fried with onion and capsicum. And just across from the Reunification Palace, there are some truly fancy places like Bunto (everything is bun), with prices that aren't so fancy.
I'm glad that the tailors are so cheap in VN, when the food is this good. It doesn't cost much to get your clothes adjusted!
Because I was ill (my 1000th case of bronchitis, probably due to the lack of Berocca in my life), I missed the Cu Chi tunnels. But I did get to wander the zoological gardens, fever and all.
At 50 US cents a person, it's a cheap day that includes entry to an attractive pagoda honouring the first king of Vietnam.
While some animals were living it up - particularly the monkeys, some of whom weren't even in cages, others looked very unhappy. In VN, the cat is not honoured, so this was particularly noticed with the big cats. The happiest kitty I saw was the Small Indian cat - even though it had a tiny cage, it was perfectly happy to nap curled up in a hollow log. But it was awful to see the poor hydrophilic fishing cats in cages without a pond to splash in.
Better served were the elephants, who'd developed a dance to cadge chunks of sugar cane (available at 6.5 US cents per stick) from visitors. They swayed from side to side in unison and looked very well fed. At the childrens' zoo, the pigs and goats were yumming up the fresh bamboo leaves offered them. Although you occasionally see signs requesting that patrons not feed the animals, in Vietnam they are generally ignored.
Back in District 1, Backpacker Central, Chi Linh dropped me off, and I went off wandering in that dazed sort of way I am when ill (I used to get lost in supermarkets back in Oz), stopping off by my new papaya-retailing friend for supplies. And who did I meet? Maarten.
I felt someone prodding my shoulder, and there he was, all 6-foot tall ex-Roman soldier and Hanoi reprobate of him. It was cool, because I'd missed his send-off in Hanoi thanks to my little Indochinese jaunts. He was travelling with his brother and his brother's girlfriend, which was kind of weird, because last time he came up to my friend Sabine in Bangkok and did exactly the same poking sort of thing to her (really!), he was travelling with his aunts. Can't imagine travelling beyond Hanging Rock (in country Victoria) with my relatives.
So we had a beer, and lamented the lack of Beer Lao (with its incredible and slightly honeyed taste) in our lives. Then I went and collapsed in the guesthouse while the Dutch gang hit the 200000 VND Indian eatery I recommended. It's fiery hot, but there's nothing like a bit of fresh okra cooked up in a tomato-based curry.
And then I had the plane trip back to Hanoi, and work, to look forward to.
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