10 November 2013

Ho Chi Minh City

Ho Chi Minh City is a city of terrifying proportions.  Everywhere you look, everywhere you go, you're watching out to make sure motorbikes don't hit you. Road. Pavement. Shop. It does not matter.  They will find you and beep beep past you, just narrowly missing your foot, bag, boyfriend.  

And still, when you're a city dweller, you take these things to heart.  People don't have time to waste and there's a pragmatism to finding the fastest ways from point A to B.  

On our first day, I must admit, it did get the best of us.  But fortunately, Vietnam is also known for its strong, strong coffee and excellent cafe culture.  An hour into our first day's wandering, we took refuge into the Trung Nguyen Coffee Shop, Vietnam's answer to Starbucks Coffee.  Last decade, Vietnam flooded the market with robusta coffee and caused prices to crash worldwide.  Without going into too much detail about my Starbucks-employee-gained coffee education, robusta roasted coffee is a far inferior bean to its arabica cousin.  And the flooded market obviously caused problems for both the world economy and Vietnamese farmers.  

In practical terms though, it means that Vietnam has turned its coffee production and appreciation in on itself.  It improved its methods of roasting, cultivated their coffee establishments and celebrated home-grown establishments a-la Trung Nguyen.  

Upon arrival on one corner Trung Nguyen or another, we were greeted with delightful air conditioning, a 12-page menu (including a range of cakes) and a complimentary glass of something that tasted like soybean iced tea.  

From there, we had a delightful vantage point to watch the world of district 3 pass us by.  And what a world it was...
A organised person's worst nightmare
 
bamboo on a bicycle 

Fortified, we returned to our wanderings, never straying too far from our accommodation and taking right turns at red lights only.  I was heartened to learn that despite years of an awful 'American War', as the Vietnamese called it, the locals were not hostile to my American accent.  In all honesty, people generally ignored us as we went on our way from Communist tourist site to Communist tourist site.  

Reunification Palace, where Communist tanks triumphantly rolled into signaling an end to the war in 1975.  Not being alive at this point, I couldn't tell you much. 
Close up
Ho Chi Minh's podium of power.  The myriad Communist flags were a bit off-putting at this point, but you get used to them. 
The city's Catholic Cathedral, with birds--for effect, obviously
numbered trees in the park seem practical when you're meeting friends for a picnic 

From here, Paul and I got a bit more comfortable and made our first attempts at crossing the road on our own.  This feat should not be underestimated.  Step One: look for a gap. Just don't expect this gap to be bigger than a foot.  Step Two: Go. Just go.  Close your eyes and go.  Step Three: Whatever you do, do not hesitate.  Never. 

We were rewarded with sites like the market, one historic pagoda or another and some wonderful, wonderful roadside dining.
Jade Pagoda 


'Lucky' Turtles.  At the front gates of the pagoda, peddlers hawked their wares--you could purchase a turtle, write a message on it with wite-out (tip-ex for you British readers) and then release it into the pond of luckiness. 
 
A bell chiming, gongs gonging service like nothing I've ever seen before 

And our last stop of the day happened to be this delightful roadside restaurant.  Our self-given advice on choosing a restaurant was this: 1. avoid the places in the guide book 2. Find a place with lots of Vietnamese people siting outside 3. Streetside restaurants are even better.  This advice only failed us once and fortunately the experience left us only £1 out of pocket.  And neither of us left with food poisoning.  

It's hard to put into words the surreality of drinking beer and eating noodles whilst motorbikes go zoom-zooming past you.  Where drivers cook whilst driving and try to sell your their dried squid while you eat.  Where a man drives by with his 'disco bike' playing music and selling pirated cds.  Where women pass you selling lotto tickets, gum, cigarettes.
Where you find ice cream in the shape of a fish in the corner shop.  

Hail to southeastern Asian cities.  

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