Locating
the Starbucks of the East has been my God-send. This is what I did last
night, staring into the abyss of rush hour in Saigon as small children
forged major traffic jams as if it was a daily occurrence - as it
clearly is. Wifi and pineapple juice got me through the better part of
the evening before navigating my way 'home' with the help of some very
nice ladies who drew me perhaps the least detailed map I have ever seen.
Regardless, it worked, and I made a left at the KFC (which had
live chickens wandering around outside ) and landed back at Budget
Hostel 2, located in the back of a cafe, seeming to produce a maximum of 3 handmade sandwiches a day.
Having
had a long day, I thought to myself, Ill just lie down and close my
eyes for a minute. When they opened the sun was long gone and my room
was now 18 full, as opposed to just me and the occasional straggler
back to charge their phone or change their footwear. A restful sleep for
the second night in a row fully dressed, including jewelry, I was only
awakened every hour or so to hear my roommate climb down from her top
bunk, vomit for a few minutes in the communal bathroom, and then turn on
the shower to hose down whatever mess she had made, and make her
ascension once again. I was partly irritated, partly concerned. When
there was no denying that it was, in fact, morning at about 5 am I was
up and ready to go, and she was up and eager to discover the source of
her night-long affliction.
Being
up before the sun, and the consequential heat I decided to throw on my
running shoes and head out for a standard in my travel regime, a morning
run. With a park just across the road I figured that was the safest
place, and I was not the only one as this seems to be one of the most
physically active cities I have visited. There were
morning Tai Chi classes, outdoor park equipment being utilized and
some Asian version of Zumba in the center of the park that I was tempted
to join. I took a couple laps and then it was back
to shower, wifi, and gorge on my daily allowance of both natural and
processed carbs, as today's gratis hostel breakfast was white bread and a
banana. Never one to pass up a free meal, I shoved all things beige in
my face and hit the road.
This day was just me and the open road. Thesweet front desk girl, who literally seems to live here (behind the
desk, not in a room of any sort) circled some go-tos for me on a map, acting as the perfect companion for my day as a tourist. After
traversing one of the many congested round abouts it was off to a
Buddhist temple where I was quick to grab some shots and offend all of
those there to worship by walking all over the temple Converse-clad. Once
it was brought to my attention I quickly remedied the issue and
apologized profusely, but essentially felt like a horse's ass. A big
white horse's ass.
It
didn't take long to get to the Ben Thanh Market filled with gutted
fish, snapping crabs and everything you could possibly imagine
'authentically' embroidered with the words Viet Nam on it. Meandering
the stalls I realized I was moving at a suburban pace, perhaps leaving
the frenetic pace of New York behind, despite the fact that I was now in
a city that put New York to shame in terms of chaos and noise. A couple
trinkets were purchased and I was off, to Duc Ba Church. Vietnam is largely Buddhist, however, there is a significant
Catholic population and this particular cathedral adorns it's fair
share of postcards and key chains so I figured it must be noteworthy. So
noteworthy, in fact the doors were closed and it seemed as though it's
only purpose was to act as a back drop to young couples and faux models
taking endless amounts of selfies up against the red brick facade.
Having
not had a real meal since leaving New York, which seemed like years ago, I located another sunny spot with wifi and vegetarian pho.
Hot noodle soup in warm weather may seem counter intuitive, but the DIY
peppers and sprouts made for a delicious meal and enjoyable entry into
Vietnamese cuisine in the motherland.
Next
it was off to the Unification Palace which held no interest for me, yet
I purchased a ticket and entered its wrought-iron gates to gaze at late
60's decor at it's best in a palace that looks far more like a
state-run facility than the home to the former head of state.
Regardless, it offered the opportunity to purchase some glossy postcards
and head to the Ho Chi Minh City Post Office, also marked as a landmark
here in the city. Once entering you can see why with its arched
ceilings and vast interior.
A
quick peek into the Saigon Opera House and a lengthy walk back to the
hostel by way of the riverside and I was ready for bed, yet ready to
eat. I dropped my purchases, put on a jacket and quickly headed out
after dark searching for sustenance. First, however, I stumbled across a
community party on the grounds of a beautiful church where
everyone seemed to know one another and all brought their home made
goods to be sold and enjoyed. Being the ONLY white person on the
premises they were bound to know which one of these things did not
belong, but affectionately paid me little mind as I snapped some shots
and headed out before overstaying my welcome.
Not
quite knowing what 'this place will not make you ill' looks like written in
Vietnamese, I went into a restaurant just a couple of blocks from my
lodging in search of noodles and egg rolls, which is exactly what I
ordered. Moments later the waiter who did not speak English informed me
they did not have that. It seemed that everything I pointed to on the
menu had just gone missing from the pantry, so I took whatever it was he
wanted to give me, ate it greedily whilst reading John Steinbeck and
called it a night before more Dong were spent and calories consumed.
In
an attempt to take advantage of being in the South, I had booked a day trip to the Mekong
Delta and knew well and good that my entire day would be devoted to just
that. So devoted in fact, I brought my sunscreen, bug repellent and
Dramamine along with me for the voyage (none of which were needed).
Up
and showered before hostel breakfast was served I headed out and this
time, when an old man clearly suffering from cataracts with a touch of
dementia asked if I would like to hop on the back of his motorbike to
get me to the Saigon Opera House in moments flat, I happily agreed. A
shit-show for sure, there is something serene about actually being on
one of the bikes, especially when located on the back and totally void of any control.
After
reaching my destination and being overcharged I waited for the 8 am bus
to Mekong. My guide was a sweet girl by the name of Queenie
who was 25 but still under the reigns of her father to such a degree, she far more closely resembled a
teenager. The 90-minute bus ride was flanked by lush
green fields and farmers tending to their rice. The fields are littered
with beautiful mausoleums because, as I am told, the ancestors are
buried on the property to keep the souls close to their family. Evidently
a family will stay in a small home and fore go any extravagances to build
bigger and better graves for their ancestors. Perhaps this fun fact
stuck with me because I cannot imagine Americans adopting the same
notion, especially with all of the malls simply calling our names.
The
tour was a boat ride along the Mekong River with a couple of stops to
sample local flavor. The first of which was to nosh on some tropical fruit while listening to some traditional music. One of the fruits, only available during the new year, was described as tasting like mother's milk. It was in spit of this description that we all took a bite while trying to erase that visual from our heads. We then bore witness to coconut
candy being made and, lastly feasted on a lunch of all things fishy and
fried. Trying to be a good sport I gave my best effort to eat along with my Aussie
and British travel mates for the day who seemed to think everything was
simply delicious, but I gave mine to the local stray dog instead. Ever
the grown up.
A tuk tuk ride to a kayak and then back on solid ground.
Sadly,
a 2 hour ride home (with traffic) gave me time to think - always a
dangerous prospect for me. Why is it as I sit on a bus staring out at
the beauty the world has to offer I don't think to myself how lucky I am
to bare witness to this, but how sad I am for the lack of beauty in my
own life? Biology, attitude or simply circumstance - I cannot
tell.
So
here I sit, back at the corner of Pham Ngu Lao and Nguyen Thai Hoc
during rush hour, almost being lulled by the level of ear pollution and
thinking of tomorrow. Tonight is my last night in Saigon/HCMC , and Ill admit I
like it here and will be sad to go, but tomorrow I am off for 5 days on
the Phu Quoc Islands, and even though this is the coldest winter they
have had in 20 years - there is a beach somewhere in this country - and
it has my name on it!
