Saigon: Where Tradition meets Tomorrow

It’s amazing how quickly a person can familiarise themselves with a city, and although this is our third visit to Ho Chi Minh City, it is no less exciting. Some things, like crossing the roads as motor bikes and cars whizz around you continue to be challenging. But the advice given to us on our first visit some eighteen years ago, to walk across the road like a cow, remains true. Our first foray across a pedestrian crossing, which is ignored by all motorists, is a test of whether we have nerves of steel or not. Plodding like a cow, we not only survive, but agree that we could do this henceforth without panicking.

Traffic in Ho Chi Minh city has changed a lot. During previous visits, motor bikes were the major mode of transport, and they were used to not only haul people but things. Big things like building materials, live animals for the market or slaughterhouse, large electrical appliances, and of course, entire families. Today we notice that there are a lot more cars on the streets, and the uniquely-coloured teal vehicles, both cars and motor bikes are electric and made in Vietnam. Yes, there are a lot more cars and small trucks on the road today, and I think that somehow the city has lost a lot of its character due to this. The government, in its desire to reduce the traffic in the city, has also introduced an underground railway system called the Metro, which was under construction when we visited in 2018. Interestingly, unlike the Metro in Paris, the London Underground, or the New York subways, and despite sitting next to one of the access points to Saigon’s underground system whilst enjoying Vietnamese coffee, I did not observe one person entering the station. Perhaps it is used during peak times, when people are coming and going to work.

We pass the iconic Rex Hotel as we head towards Ben Thanh market, the best known market in central Ho Chi Minh City and are immediately thrust into the hustle and bustle of sellers versus buyers. The aisles between the stalls are very narrow and if we stop long enough to look at anything, we are jostled and pushed and harassed all at once. The sellers are particularly strident in their desire to sell and to be honest, you need to go to the market with the intention to purchase something just to get the full extent of the experience. We are squished between two stalls, but one with two extra-aggressive female sellers grab our attention. Tom wants cotton shirts. Not silk, not rayon, but 100% pure cotton. Shirts appear from nowhere. Plain, self-patterned, but no, Tom especially wants checked shirts. One is plucked from the pile, measured against his shoulders and before we know it, a bundle of differently checked shirts in his size tumbles from somewhere above, the string is pulled and shirt after shirt is held up against him, with nods of heads and much chatter between the sellers that we do not understand. Every now and then a particularly ghastly shirt is discarded even by the seller. Prices, up until this point are not discussed. Four shirts, four shorts, and even three trousers for me are added to the pile. Nothing is tried on. The calculator comes out and a price is displayed on the small screen. No, I shake my head emphatically. I carefully type in a figure. I have to be careful because the Vietnamese Dong has far too many zeroes and even the sellers knock at least three off for expediency. The seller laughs and provides a new figure. Still too high. I type in the same as before. She laughs, shows a slightly lower number. I laugh and raise my number slightly. No, and so it goes. I am down to my last tactic. I say to forget it and begin to walk away. Wait, wait. She brings her number down, but still slightly higher than my last offer, and the deal is done. The haggling is part of the experience. I know that the sellers are still happy with their money. They won’t sell unless it is for profit. We won’t buy unless it is a bargain. Yes, we are all happy. With purchases in hand, we are ready to leave the market and continue on our way.

Just near the Notre Dame Cathedral, which is currently under major refurbishment, is the central post office. The French colonial building is well-maintained and is like a museum inside, with its central bank of display cases and market stalls taking up many of the booths once used by the post office. We buy postcards, and since it is still a working post office, we line up to post a card to our friends in Cuba. We are not often in a place where it is possible to post items to Cuba, but Vietnam and Cuba are on friendly terms and for a very few dollars, we could surprise our friends with a hastily-written card. All activity here takes place under the watchful eye of Uncle Ho himself; the imposing photograph graces the far wall. The absence of air-conditioning makes this a truly unique Saigon experience.

Our smaller-sized ship has docked right in the heart of Ho Chi Minh City making it easy to attend the Azamazing cultural evening that Azamara includes on each of its cruises. Tonight’s excursion is to Binh Quoi Village, where we enjoy a showcase of dance, music, and traditional costumes. Set to modern music, we are introduced to many of the traditional musical instruments and dances. The highlight is the parade of the traditional costumes of the many indigenous groups of Vietnam. Whilst watching the show, we are treated to an array of Vietnamese treats and fruits. The forty-five minute drive there and back takes us through the city, providing us the opportunity to observe, albeit from a bus window, life on the streets of Saigon, well away from the touristy areas.

Most cruise ships have to dock some 70 kilometres from Ho Chi Minh City, so our close proximity to the centre of the city is a bonus that I did not expect. It also provides us the chance to talk to local people, and sometimes that opportunity presents itself in the most unexpected of ways. Ordering coffee in the London Café, which is not as airconditioned as we would like, we choose from an unusual bill of fare. Whilst I choose lychee and rose iced tea, Tom chooses a peculiar avocado and coconut milk concoction, which looks ghastly, but he promises me is very tasty. Our server is delightful. A student, she is currently doing her master’s in English language, and she is not only well-spoken, but seems to have all the time in the world, as she plies us with questions about whether Vietnamese people in Australia are well-liked. A conversation followed about how the Vietnamese in Australia are hardworking, their children well-educated, that they are our neighbours, our work colleagues, and our friends.

We are here only long enough to view a snapshot of the city that we love to visit. It has changed a lot since we first visited in 2007, but despite those changes, the heart of the city still pulsates with tradition whilst embracing the convenience and ease that modern life brings. I still love to see the street sellers, their conical hats and their baskets of produce easily picked up and moved with the flow of humanity, clinging to the old ways and adding an extra something to life in the city.

We return to the ship exhausted, hot, red in the face, and prepare for a late afternoon departure. Taking a seat in the lounge on the 10th deck, we watch as the ship slips its moorings and retraces this part of the journey. The electricity cables have been switched off as we pass under and this time I go out on deck and watch the ship clear the bridge with only a metre to spare. We will change course shortly and travel along a different river to the sea as we continue our way in a northerly direction.