Real estate comes at a premium in the crowded streets of central Saigon so buildings grow upwards rather than outwards. Many of these thin slivers replace the alleyways between old buildings: Alterations can be done easily on the roadside: Andrew's friend, Thui, took us out to the Binh Cuioi tourist village, a mini theme park of sorts, consisting of manufactured scenes from Vietnam. We didn't see too much of it because we had diverted our attentions toward a cheesy wedding photo shoot taking place: Five seater: Just before we turned in for the evening, we watched a bunch of local guys playing takraw, a game similar to hackey sack. Instead of a beanbag, though, they use a plastic shuttle with feathers on the end. You can hear a guy trying to sell us one in the background:
Back in the day, an elaborate network of tunnels spanned 75-miles underneath Củ Chi district, with areas designated for kitchens, conference rooms, sleeping quarters and munitions bunkers. It's sort of ironic that the Củ Chi tunnels, originally established to drive out invading foreigners, now attract many thousands of tourists annually. The portion accessible to the general public has been widened to compensate for "fat American asses" (I overheard a tour guide say this to his group). Even with the broadened passages, claustrophobia kicked in not long into my dimly lit fifty meter crawl.
A tunnel left in its original state. It's hard to imagine people living in such cramped conditions. Hobbes for scale: An old U.S tank sits where it fell. A delay mine put this one out of commission in 1970: Trapdoors leading to spiked pits are on display near the entrance of the exhibit: The original tunnel entrances do not accomodate for larger frames unfortunately, so I couldn't climb in this one for a photo op. The Viet Cong had similar entrances hidden all over the area, including a number by the U.S. 25th Infantry division's base camp. I've read that Viet Cong geurillas would pop out randomly, take a few pot shots at the U.S troops and go back into hiding: The firing range in the compound is out of bounds except for paying customers. Unfortunately, it costs a buck a round and that kind of thing is not in my budget. I did snag a couple of photos and a souvenir shell casing before we got kicked out. Sadly, the visit felt a little rushed thanks to sporadic heavy rains and our surly Viet Cong tour guide.
Strange that the Good Morning Vietnam chain of restaurants only serves Italian food: Traditional fare can easily be found on the roadside anyway: Cone hatted women sell all sorts of things along the busy streets: A few laze about at a waiting area near the docks by the Mekong: One of many Ho Chi Minh ("Uncle Ho") memorial statues. This one rests outside the People's Committee Building (formerly the Hotel DeVille). People aren't supposed to take photos of the building but we made sure the guards were looking the other way: Introduced by French Colonialists in the 1600's, Catholicism has spread throughout Vietnam, moreso than her neighbours. Ho Chi Minh City has her own version of the Notre Dame Cathedral (though it's not nearly as elaborately built): The Central Post Office is just across the street from the Cathedral. More interesting than it sounds, it's a tourist hotspot because of its late 19th century architecture. A giant painting of Ho Chi Minh watches over the central hall: And a pair of communist style statues sit next to the entrance:
I found myself at the entrance of Andrew and Jo’s guesthouse this morning after navigating through the claustrophobic maze of alleyways in Pham Ngu Lao, Ho Chi Minh City’s backpacker district. We followed breakfast with a bike ride to the Dan Sinh war surplus market for a bit of shopping (I’m a sucker for army surplus). Surprisingly, I restrained myself to purchasing only three “vintage” commie buttons and two Viet Cong hats. I had my eye on a pith helmet but my backpack is crammed full as it is. It’s hard to believe but crossing the street here has been one of the most exhilarating things I’ve done on this trip so far. You see, pedestrian crossings are few and far between in this heavily populated city and a little initiative has to be taken to get across. The secret lies in a leap of faith whereby one steps in front of moving traffic, maintains eye contact with drivers of oncoming vehicles while keeping a steady pace. It is a little daunting when faced with dozens of speeding motorbikes. A video demonstration (not very well filmed unfortunately):
Half the day had already passed by the time we got out of the war surplus market so we booked it to the historically significant Reunification Palace (formerly the Presidential Palace). We only paused briefly here for a photo op at the spot where North Vietnamese tank #843 crashed through, symbolically ending the Vietnam War. We worked our way a few blocks north to the War Remnants Museum where we soaked in a rather biased interpretation of the “American War.” Several displays in the main wing of the museum are dedicated to the atrocities committed by the “Imperialist” Americans. Most of the exhibit centered on graphic images of the long term effects of chemical defoliants (Agent Orange) and the massacre at My Lai. Outside, a number of leftover American tanks, aircraft and weaponry sit exposed to the elements: A shrine to “Uncle Ho” near the main exhibit - these things are everywhere: This wax model inside a recreated “Tiger Cage” (a South Vietnamese prison cell for Viet Cong soldiers) almost gave me a heart attack: On the way back to our respective guesthouses, we stopped at Pho 2000, a noodle shop where Bill Clinton ate during his visit in 2000. Though a little bit pricier than other pho restaurants, the food was definitely fit for a president. I made off with an extra pair of disposable chopsticks as a souvenir.
The busload of forty or so backpackers I traveled with was unceremoniously dumped at the Bavet/Moc Bai border crossing to take care of the requisite paperwork for the journey onward to Vietnam. Just like any other land crossing I’ve gone through so far, it’s more or less a simple affair. First step was to check out of the country of origin (Cambodia in this case), handing over the departure card I filled out in Poi Pet when I first entered the country. The officer at the booth checked over the details, stamped my passport to void the visa and ushered me toward the gated border separating Cambodia from Vietnam. So far so good.
After a brief walk, I stepped into the building on the Vietnamese side of the border to fill out my entry papers. A “helpful” member of staff blocked my path as I reached for the forms and insisted he fill them out on my behalf. I told him I was quite capable but he stood firm. Admittedly, I caved and let him do his thing, but as he finished up, he sheepishly looked around and then demanded a dollar (wahn daw-laah) for services rendered. This type of thing, I’m sure, isn’t standard practice and because he looked around before asking, he was probably doing something he wasn't supposed to. So I mustered the loudest “one dollar??!?” I could, making sure it was loud enough for the higher ups to hear, which prompted him to back down and push me to the visa line.
As far as first impressions go, I’m really hoping this isn’t representative of my upcoming experience in Vietnam, though I’ve certainly been warned of this type of thing.
A silly sign on the Cambodian side of the border (Bavet): I met up with Andrew and Jo (or Jonus, as Andrew calls her) a couple of hours after my arrival in Ho Chi Minh City. We wandered around the backpacker district’s alleyways for a cheap room, finally settling on one run by honest owners (it's actually quite surprising how things work here).
