Our journey to Ho Chi Minh City yesterday had been uneventful, and we settle into our new hotel, which is really quite lovely. This morning, however, I realise that no matter how I try to work it out, there doesn't appear to be a shower in our room. There is a bathroom with a huge bath, but the metal snake-shaped hose is connected to the wall, but not to a tap or water outlet, which means that it's merely decoration. Aaaah! I can assure you that Vietnam isn't the sort of place where one can go without a shower for very long. It's also the first time since 1980 that I've had to pay an extra cost for a room with a shower. That time I was in Ireland.

After some discussion with the hotel manager, we eventually inspect a couple of available rooms on the same floor and agree on the room at the front of the hotel directly above the hotel reception area, or I should say, the bathroom is directly above the reception desk. More about that later...

 

This is our second visit to Ho Chi Minh City; the first being ten years ago. We had stayed in the Renaissance Riverside Hotel, which is situated by the river and from the window of our room, day and night, we had watched with fascination the constant activity of people and bicycles entering and leaving the busy ferry terminal opposite. It had been a very peaceful place. This time, however, we are a few blocks back within a busy hotel and restaurant precinct. I think that the rather reasonable daily tariff attracted me when I had booked the hotels recently, but I'm not complaining because this is a nice hotel and within easy walking distance of everything we need. 

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Instead of booking end-to-end tours this time, we decide to explore our local area and also revisit some local historic or places of interest on foot, so armed with a map and with runners on our feet, we leave the air-conditioned comfort of our hotel and step out into the heat and humidity and within thirty seconds, and whilst still standing on the footpath, almost come to grief with a motorcyclist. I had forgotten about the traffic in Vietnam. 

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The large Vietnamese cities, Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, are defined by the traffic congestion and it is something that fascinates me. How come nobody seems to get hit by a vehicle? I'm told they do, but in the ten days we are in Vietnam, we don't see a single accident, and yet I am standing on a footpath outside my hotel and small motorcycles are weaving around me. 

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'You must walk across the road like a... like a... cow.' The tour guide's triumphant smile shows me that she's selected exactly the correct word for the situation as my face must have registered an understanding of what she was trying to tell me. To cross a road in Vietnam I need to step off the kerb with the utter conviction that I will make it to the other side unscathed and perhaps with a small feeling of victory for conquering the 'traffic issue'. That was ten years ago.

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And things have not changed.

We approach the lights near the hotel and wait for them to change. As we step off the kerb and onto the road, the mantra is buzzing around in my head.

'Plod, plod... just like a cow.'

'Beep, beep.' A motorcycle toots as it swerves as it takes the corner at lightning speed. 

Undaunted, I make it to the opposite side of the street and as I take the last step from asphalt to footpath without incident, I exhale. I have held my breath throughout this entire ordeal!

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There is a distinct lack of traffic lights in Ho Chi Minh City, which is the largest city in Vietnam. With a population of over 15 million people, most of whom ride motorbikes or motor scooters, traffic lights are not really seen by the motorist as being necessary. After all, nobody obeys them. The 'green man' means nothing to drivers, nor do red lights, or pedestrian crossings. For insurance purposes only, I must use the designated crossings, just in case... But it's an experience. 

Getting back to the 'cow' analogy, the theory is that if a pedestrian maintains the same pace as they cross the road, the drivers have taken that speed into consideration, enabling them to weave around the people without incident. However, when you vary your pace or freak out and stop in the middle of the road, the driver hasn't time to alter their speed and kerboom! I have another line of defence, though! By simply attaching myself to a local person like a limpet, and matching them step by step, I can cross any road with ease and without the related stress. In the absence of locals, the 'Cow Principle' comes into force!

We arrive at the famous Ben Thanh Market and the first thing I see is a t-shirt stall. As if to lure in the tourists, their best-selling shirt is in full view. The motif is a large, colourful scribble. The slogan says, 'Vietnamese Traffic'. I have a sudden urge to buy that t-shirt!

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We are covering old ground today. During the last ten years there have been significant changes to the city. Gone are the traditional coffee shops, remnants of the French Colonial era, where coffee and French-style pastries are served from tiny shops. No tables and chairs, the patrons sit on red plastic stools on the footpaths outside the cafes and socialise. I'm very sad to see that these vibrant meeting-places have been replaced by Starbucks and Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf franchises. There is a local franchise with the unfortunate name, Phuc Long, in competition with the somewhat expensive American stalwarts, but even this place doesn't have the same vibe as the traditional coffee houses.

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We arrive at the Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica of Saigon. Constructed by French colonists between 1863 and 1880, it was initially called The Cathedral of Saigon, but the name, Notre Dame Cathedral, has been used since 1959. I'm sorry to see that the cathedral is closed for renovations, so we are unable to look inside. However, I had been interested to read that all the original materials used in its construction had been imported from France, including tiles from Marseilles and stained glass from Chartres. Since the war, replacement tiles are made locally. It's worth noting that in 2005, the statue of Our Lady of Peace, which stands at the front of the cathedral, was allegedly shedding tears. This had attracted thousands of people, so many in fact, that special traffic controllers had been brought in to stop traffic from coming near the cathedral. Despite the Catholic Church not being able to confirm the phenomenon, we are interested to see many people waiting in turn to have their photos taken in front of the statue today, thirteen years later.

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Not too far away is another iconic building of French origin. Built between 1886 and 1891, the Saigon Central Post Office, the architecture includes Gothic, Renaissance, and French influences. Although the design of this magnificent building is credited to Gustav Eiffel, it was actually designed by Alfred Foulhoux. The exterior of the building is reminiscent of a railway station building with it's wide entrance, above which is a large clock. The freshly-painted yellow facade and green shutters provide a sense of refuge from the heat of the day; a feeling that is dispelled the moment one steps through the door because in the absence of a cooling system, the air is heavy and fetid. But I forget about the heat once I lift my eyes to the arched ceiling. This building could exist anywhere in Europe, with it's heavy hand-carved counters and real old-school telephone boxes; the only clue to its Asian location is the large portrait of Ho Chi Minh on the far wall. The counters are open and, like all post offices around the world, offer a variety of postal services. However, one icon, 87-year-old, Mr. Duong Van Ngo, is unique. Fluent in English, French, and his native Vietnamese, he writes letters for the illiterate at a rate of 50c a page between the hours of 8am and 3pm daily. This is a beautiful building and although it could easily have been turned into a museum, I'm glad that it still provides the services for which it was originally built. 

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When we were last in Vietnam in 2008, ten years ago, the Rex Hotel had been partially demolished as a new wing was being constructed. Today, we we arrive at the iconic hotel, we find it is again partially closed due to construction works, which have attracted high-end luxury stores, soon to be opened. The Rex Hotel is owned by the Saigon Trust, which is a state-owned entity. As we approach the hotel, the facade reminds us of an old-fashioned auto workshop; the type that are located on corners, allowing cars to enter the covered semi-circular porch whilst an attendant fills the car, cleans the windscreen and pops the bonnet to check the oil and water. There is one near our home in Malvern. The original building was constructed in 1927 as a two-storey auto dealership during the French Colonial rule, and operated as such until 1959, when a wealthy Vietnamese businessman purchased the building and with his wife converted it into a hotel and cinema complex. The first guests arrived in 1961, and the owners operated the hotel throughout the Vietnam War, opening rooms to US soldiers and war correspondents. It was also used to by the American Military Command to host the daily conference. At the end of the war, the owners settled in France, as Saigon's Tourist Board took ownership, renaming it 'The City Port'. The conference room here was used for the press conference, which announced the reunification of Vietnam in 1976. It was renamed Rex Hotel in 1986. With such a fascinating history, I would love to explore it further.

We turn our attention to the large construction site opposite, where an underground rail system is under construction. Perhaps this is a way of trying to reduce the number of vehicles on the streets and the congestion it causes, not only on the busy roads, but on the footpaths, where hundreds of motor bikes are parked at any one time.

Our fascinating walk down memory lane finishes at a restaurant, where we find traditional Southern Vietnamese food in an ambient setting. Walking back to our hotel, we find the streets have been transformed into a large night market and street restaurant as day turns into night. This city has an atmosphere, which I hope never diminishes.

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