My Ho Chi Minh City tour. A dance of chaos.
Dark clouds of a monsoon threatened the evening sky. It’s only 6:30 p.m., yet the day has already given way to night. Cooked meats crackle and burn on the grill as locals sit at low-lying tables on chairs—red, blue, and green—facing out toward the street in a cafe the speaks to a bygone French influence. We sit down as fragrant smells of fish oil, smoke and incense tickle our noses.
We ask for a cold beer, though we know that means warm beer with a large chunk of ice here. Moments later, plates heaped with fresh basil, mint, and lettuce are placed in front of us. We watch as children peer at the ill-fated fish in the tanks that line the wall. Across the street, a lone barber shaves his customer in a makeshift salon.
The street is bustling with local vendors. Shirtless mechanics hammer away on frail scooters as others lounge, sipping iced coffee and staring off into the distance. They are seemingly unaware of the constant honking of bikes and crowing of roosters as they walk aimlessly amongst pedestrians hustling along the busy sidewalks.
From our covered vantage point, the buildings seem to topple onto each other, clamoring for space, similar to a flower reaching for sunlight in a garden full of weeds. Under the glow of shop lighting, they still appear colorful, although weathered and stained from constant humidity. If I were an architect, I would wonder what kind of inspiration might come from such a place.
A wizened local woman offers a warm smile as she passes by. Most others are fixated, with intense stares, on the sidewalk in front of them. How does this apparent chaos function fluidly? It reminds of me of what the inner workings of my body must be like. Thousands of moving cells, each darting off in a million different directions, all with agendas of their own. Somehow, they live in unison, like a harmonious dance that has no end or beginning.
Everything is new and different, yet strangely, I find a measure of comfort here. An unbound sense of place. Sweat drips from my brow and suddenly the sky opens up. Thunder and lightning crack so ferociously that I feel it in my bones. Plump raindrops explode on the concrete. No one seems to notice; yet, scooter drivers are now in ponchos, as if by magic.
Our food is served. We all sip our beer. This is Ho Chi Minh City.
