Impressions of Saigon

Ho Chi Minh City, still unofficially Saigon, is a growing city of intense dyanamism. Though responsible for much of the crime rate in Vietnam, we saw none of it, and the people we met were remarkably unjaded. While most of those with whom we interacted were trying to sell us something, the mercantilist veneer barely hides a genuine friendliness. The first full day we were in Saigon we got into a haggling match with a pregnant street vendor over a book we half-heartedly wanted. After several exchanges, where she utilized about every pained face she could express, she finally gave in. We felt a bit guilty, low-balling a poor local expectant mother like that. However, the next two days when we saw her around the neighborhood, she would smile and wave as if we were old friends, not to sell us anything more, but because now we had created something of a relationship. While certainly many of the people on the streets were genuinely destitute, others definitely seemed to consider hawking a worthwhile pastime. We overheard one young girl around 14 say that although she knew she was officially too young to work, she thought it was fun because she got to interact with the rest of the community on the block and meet some interesting tourists. The last day in Saigon we passed an aging man with rough hands who stopped us specifically to ask how we were doing. We replied and he asked, “Are you American?” He told us that he had fought for the South Vietnamese army during the war. “ America is number one!” he said, adding a thumbs-up. We had learned the previous day that many of the soldiers who fought with the U.S. were largely disenfranchised by the communists, stripped of citizenship, and relegated to a life of survival on the street. While neither of us have felt that we knew enough about that time in history to comment on U.S. policy as it was then practiced, we cannot help but feel somewhat responsible for his fate and the life he might have enjoyed had the communists been kept at bay. In his place, we wonder if we would be quite so enthusiastic. His female friend with a loud laugh pressed an apple into Rebecca’s hand before asking if they could get a picture together as she kissed Rebecca on the cheek and sent us on our way. They did not ask for any money, only if we happened to be by the next day he would be happy to offer his motor scooter services, and that it was nice to meet us. It was nice to meet them too – it reminded me that people are the same everywhere: certainly not that all people share the same traits, but rather that the variety of personality traits and values held arise repeatedly regardless of situation or story.

Saigon buzzes at night with traffic, restaurant and bar noise, and raw human energy. Indeed, the area we stayed appeared to have more people milling about at night than during the day. The bars, while serving to a healthy crop of Westerners, is also full of middle-class Vietnamese and other Asian tourists, as well as the ever-present young women out looking for a good time that may or may not include business. Like Thailand and Cambodia, there were a fair number of white men and young Asian women, though the couples we saw seemed to be enjoying themselves more so than in Thailand, where these dyads appeared more clearly transactional. We were approached by a good-natured drug dealer, served by gay waiters, and petitioned by every manner of human disfigurement. We caught an open-air performance of a Vietnamese pop star (don’t ask us for his name) and boy band. We ate ice-cream (they seem to like it as much as we do), strolled through night markets, and enjoyed the temperate evenings full of excellent people watching.

Peculiar but Colorful Faith

One of the main reasons Rebecca wanted to come to this part of Vietnam was to see the Holy See of the Cao Dai faith, a recombinant system of religious doctrines and practices from around the world that includes elements of Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and bits and parts of many others including Christianity. This is the group that considers Victor Hugo, the French author of Les Miserables, as one of its cardinal saints. This unique place, a four hour drive from Saigon, is like Disneyland for God. It ripples with bright colors and contortions of three-dimensional motifs. Dragons curl up the pillars to a ceiling painted like a starry blue sky. The central symbol is the all-seeing eye, just like the one on the one-dollar bill. Above the alter is a huge sphere representing the universe. Above our heads we saw many holy figures side-by-side including Buddha, Jesus, and several Chinese spiritual men and women, gods and goddesses. It was as if boldness of the colors matched bold inclusiveness of this religion. The faithful began arriving around noon, and we witnessed the call to prayer of a truly unique people.

Viet Cong: A View from the Other Side

The tour to the Cao Dai temple included a stop at the Cu Chi tunnels, one of the heavily contested areas near Saigon during the American war, as the Vietnamese call it, and one riddled with a tunnel network used by the Viet Cong. After the war the area was turned into an historical attraction for people to see how the VC soldiers survived, and ultimately prevailed, despite limited weaponry and having to endure cramped conditions for years, before the US carpet bombed the place on the way out of town just to make a point. We were shown recreations of bunkers, booby-traps, and finally crawled through a tunnel for about 100 feet to learn what it was like. At the onset of the tour we joked with each other that the included documentary was going to be an “instructive” experience, and then in fact watched a propaganda film from 1967 about the smiling peasant heroes of the war. We came away from the whole experience with mixed feelings, but with a poignant example of how there are at least two sides to every story.

Floating down the Mekong Delta

We also took a boat trip down the Mekong delta to small villages where the locals make rice paper, raise bees to make honey, and sell delicious coconut taffy. We walked around town, shopped at the Ben Thanh market, checked out the Pho 2000 restaurant where Bill Clinton ate, and sipped some Vietnamese coffee (like espresso but with sweet milk at the bottom) before heading to the airport. Overall, the city felt remarkably alive, entrepreneurial and inspirational; not what we expected from a country with a blank yellow star on an angry red flag.