What a Trip to Vietnam!

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
Leaving behind the cleanliness and order that has become Singapore, our less than smooth flight came to completion at Tan Son Nhat Airport in Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon, depending on the generation in which you were born), Vietnam. This was our first country where a visa was required upon entry. And it was our first Communist country. Though I had nothing to fear at the airport, my heart still beat a bit faster. Since I’ve been reading Up Country, my imagination has become more creative and I had illusions of Colonel Mang detaining me for no apparent reason and keeping tabs on me the rest of the trip. At least it made me more aware of my surroundings as I knew the possibility of harassment was a reality.

Then I remembered the pocketknife.

My heart sped up a few pumps per second as I remembered the cheap watch I bought in Singapore was accompanied by a simple pocketknife with a few useful gadgets like a corkscrew, scissors, and a wicked, extremely dull two-inch blade! I had checked the bag in Singapore so that wasn’t a big deal, but here they had an x-ray machine on the way out of customs. I expected the worst and was pleasantly surprised to walk through without incident.

The US dollar is a common currency in Vietnam, but we figured we might have to use our dong somewhere in the countryside—dong being the Vietnamese currency. So we only exchanged $50, hoping to use some greenbacks along the way. Double that amount to $100 and you’re a dong millionaire as the exchange rate is some ridiculous amount like D16,000 to $1.

A pleasant taxi driver offered to take us to town. Being several miles outside of the city center, we obliged. Beforehand, we had chosen a hotel from a guidebook and pointed it to the cabby. He said, in broken English, that it didn’t exist anymore. Nor did our second choice. But he did know of a place. Hmmmm…. Whether he was correct in his assertion is to be determined, but ultimately it didn’t matter because we just wanted a place to stay.

Vietnam is the first Asian country, so far, that drives on the right side. And by right side, I mean the right side of the road and not the left. Other than that, nothing is similar to their way of driving. Compared to KL and Singapore, which were major cities with lots of cars and not many motorcycles, Ho Chi Minh City has lots of cars and even more motorcycles. To say that their streets are chaos does not begin to explain it. But I’ll try. Essentially, the main road we were on has four lanes—two in either direction, with a skinny lane for bicycles or pedestrians on either side. At times there could be three cars vying for the two lanes. Most of the time there are four to five motorcycles across the two lanes. Then there are people trying to merge so they drive on the opposite side of the road in the wrong direction and cut across two lanes of opposing traffic whether it’s clear or not. People just honk and deal with it. The horn is used liberally here. It’s not the offensive tool that it is in the US. They use it out of necessity, and not anger, so that people don’t get hit or run over. There were a few stoplights and a few more people who ran them. The chaos reached a pinnacle when the taxi entered a large roundabout. Organized by design, roundabouts should be an efficient means to enter and exit an intersection. But this one didn’t have anyone driving “aroundabout.” It had people driving in every which direction. But they weren’t just cars, there were pedestrians, pushcarts, cyclos—you name it. This would have been a traffic engineer’s dream (or rather a nightmare) to fix, but it probably will never happen. After a treacherous U-turn in the middle of a major traffic artery and several blaring horns later, we were in front of the Thien Tung Hotel.

Claiming the same excuse as in Singapore that, “This could be our last nice place to stay for awhile…” we registered in this three-star hotel. It was cheaper and more luxurious than the one in Singapore. (This is another interjection where I will rationalize staying in nice hotels compared to the budget hostels. Brad and I have stayed at some sketchy places in our traveling days. A number of them have been on this trip. In one, there was just one bed in the room that was a hard box spring without the mattress. The toilet was downstairs and it was a ‘bring your own roll’ type of place, if you know what I mean, that just had a hole in the ground and a hose if you forget your roll. Use your imagination for that one! After nearly a week in those types of hostels, we splurged in Singapore and now again in Vietnam. By splurge, we’re talking $20 a night apiece compared to $5 combined other places. Sure, we are still backpackers. We have backpacks, they just so happen to be housed in a nice room. Every trip should be mixed with the nice and not-so-nice so you can appreciate the former when at the latter.)

We flopped on the comfortable beds, partook of the provided food and beverages and relaxed for a while listening to The Doors. After taking our own lives into our hands by using the crosswalk at several intersections, just narrowly escaping death by cyclo, we hit the street where the vortex of backpackers hang out. It was filled with restaurant/internet cafes/hotels all in one building. I had some typical Vietnamese food—chicken and rice. Brad was a bit more adventurous by getting a meal that he had to assemble with lettuce, chicken, and rice paper. At the early evening’s end, we found ourselves at a backpacker bar called Allez Boo. Mostly younger people patronized the establishment that resided on the corner of two main roads. The interior, made of bamboo, gave the effect of being in a grass hut.

Enjoying a drink, we watched as backpackers, adorned in “Good Morning Vietnam” and red and gold-starred shirts pass by. What a trip! In both sense of the meanings.