Photos: http://princeton.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2059291&l=c6726&id=1101094
I left Phnom Penh at 7:30 the next morning and, though the trip to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) was only supposed to take six hours, I didn’t arrive in the former South Vietnamese capital until nearly 3pm. Counting the stops on either side of the Cambodian/Vietnamese border, the bus made six stops, two of which were half-hour stops for food. Apparently Cambodians have no interest in getting anywhere quickly, nor do they know what getting food “to go” means.
We arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (hereafter HCMC) to a swarm of motorbike drivers and guest house owners, despite the fact that I was one of the only foreigners on the bus. Lucky me. My arms were pulled in about seven directions before I even managed to get my pack out from under the bus, and though I said “Kom, kam ern” (“No, thank you”) over and over again, no one seemed to notice. In the end I just walked down the road with a parade of touts in tow.
I checked about ten places before finding a room; everything was either full or expensive. I ended up paying $9 for a room that was inferior to a room I had paid $2 for in Phnom Penh. So far Vietnam is no bargain.
I dropped my pack and wandered around Central HCMC a bit; the first things I noticed were 1) the incessant motorbike traffic and 2) the unwillingness of motorbike drivers to take “No” for an answer. Ever.
Traffic on most HCMC streets is so bad that you have no hope of finding an opening in which to cross. Similar to Cairo, you just have to walk. But while the method of choice for crossing streets in Cairo is “Close your eyes and open your heart,” in HCMC there is a little more that the pedestrian can do to ensure he doesn’t get popped. The basic strategy is to walk at a constant pace, making eye contact with the motorbike drivers and allowing them to flow around you without making any sudden movements. This can be more difficult than it sounds when piles of metal are whizzing by you at 60 mph, but with a little practice it becomes easy. And, actually, the system is quite convenient for the pedestrian: forget waiting for the “Walk” signal, just go whenever you want.
Motorbike drivers in HCMC are something like rickshaw drivers in India; every one of them wants to give you a ride, and despite all your claims that you do not need a ride, they are completely unwilling to believe you. The average numbers of times I told rickshaw drivers in India “No” before they left me alone was probably ten. For motorbike drivers in HCMC, it’s about five. That may not seem that bad, but when you consider that the figure is two or three in Cambodia and Laos and barely over one in Thailand, you can begin to understand why this is a bit of a shock to the system. I’ve gotten soft since India. Guess it’s time to learn to be emphatic again.
My favorite part about motorbike drivers is that they seem to think that they’ll actually convince you that you need a ride. It’s as if they assume your internal monologue is, Do I need a motorbike ride? Hmm. Where am I going? I have no idea. Do I have anything better to do? Not really. Should I take a motorbike ride? Gosh, maybe I should. “OK, how much?”
Sorry, guys, but I know whether I need a ride or not. Asking me ten times is not going to change my answer. And if I did need a ride, chances are I would have gotten it from one of the ten thousand other motorbike drivers that I passed before I got to you. So how about you let me figure it out from now on, OK?
That night I sampled Vietnam’s most common dish, pho. For those of you who haven’t had it in the US, it’s a bowl of white rice noodles in beef broth and some kind of meat (usually beef) along with garnishes of onions, lime, cilantro, and bean sprouts. But most importantly, it’s cheap and it’s good. I figure I’ll be eating it at least twice a day for the next two weeks.
On the way back to my guesthouse, I was accosted by at least six prostitutes. I’m going to go ahead and assume that I was a popular target simply because I’m a man walking by himself at night, because it’s far too depressing to consider the possibility that I look like someone who would require the services of a prostitute. In any case, apparently there’s something to the term “Saigon whore.”
The following morning after a bowl of pho in the main market, I checked out the sights of HCMC, which revolve around the Vietnam War, or, in the local nomenclature, the American Aggression War. I first visited the Reunification Palace, which was called the Independence Palace from when it was built in 1966 until the Viet Cong overran it in 1975. Today, it’s nothing but a museum, and it’s been left in the exact state that it was in back when it was taken by North Vietnamese forces in April 1975 (well, minus the battle scars).
The inside resembles a Western-style palace, with fancy dining and entertaining rooms as well as a “gambling room” and a movie theater. But the most interesting part was the film that was shown in the basement. Clearly made by the Vietnamese government, the film gives an account of the Vietnam War that doesn’t even attempt to be unbiased. The narrator refers to the North Vietnamese army as “our army,” American forces as “the American imperialists,” and the war as “the American Aggression War” and “the unjust war.” Another favorite soundbite of mine was “the Americans said that the targets of their bombings were military, but they were really civilian.” Perhaps a bit harsh.
The next stop on my tour was the War Remnants Museum, which is filled with even more propaganda than the Reunification Palace. The general theme of the museum is “The Americans came in here with their guns and bombs, and look what they did to us.” Hundreds of photos of dead or dying Vietnamese soldiers and civilians are on display, as are American (but not Vietnamese) guns and tanks. Strangely, the museum felt much like the Tuol Sleng prison that I visited in Phnom Penh—but that was a former prison where innocent civilians were tortured and murdered by an evil regime. The War Remnants Museum, it seems, conveniently left out that all these atrocities happened during a war; yes, perhaps an unjust war, but still a war. It’s not as if the Americans came in, rounded civilians up, sent them to prisons, and systematically murdered them.
In any case, it’s clear that the Vietnamese government is determined to advance the theory that the war was nothing but an unjust American intervention into the affairs of a free and independent country. Whether the local population feels the same way I can’t say. I haven’t brought the subject up and I don’t plan to.
Having eaten nothing but pho since my arrival in Vietnam, I decided to get my Western food kick at the local KFC that afternoon. As far as I can tell, KFC is the only foreign fast food chain in HCMC. That may sound strange, but for some reason KFC is immensely popular in Asia. In China, for instance, it comes a close second to McDonald’s; Burger King and Wendy’s are not even in the race.
But KFC in Asia is not quite the same as KFC in America. First off, there are no biscuits. You’re probably saying, “What’s the point of KFC if there are no biscuits?” My answer: “I’m not sure.” When I first visited KFC in Shanghai and asked for a biscuit only to find it wasn’t on the menu, I was devastated. And in Vietnam the situation isn’t any better.
But KFC in Vietnam does have rice covered in heavy gravy. In case that’s what you were craving. And you’ll get your Pepsi in a glass rather than in a paper cup. And an employee will open the door for you as you enter and leave the restaurant. This place is high class, baby.
I tried to keep things as Western as possible, considering that was the entire point of the visit, and ordered a “Zinger” (spicy chicken) “burger” (sandwich), fries (fries at KFC? WHAT ABOUT BISCUITS?), and a Pepsi. I’m now ready for a few more meals of pho.
That afternoon I walked down to the Saigon River, which isn’t particularly attractive, and roamed around the posh Dong Khoi section of town, which is home to a Louis Vuitton, a Burberry, and a Tag-Heuer, as well as the largest church (Notre Dame Cathedral), mosque, and Hindu Temple in town. As the day went on I began to find the city, which at nearly 6 million people is Vietnam’s largest, more attractive, although the traffic and the smog limit the aesthetic appeal. Nevertheless, by the evening I was more than ready to head north to cooler weather and, more importantly, the beach. Next stop Nha Trang, for some swimming, snorkeling, sunbathing, and all those other "S" words.
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