Travelling in Ho Chi Minh City

A family adventure full of day trips, markets, and museums.

To paraphrase my favourite travel writer, Pico Iyer: “Everyone needs to see Saigon.”

From the timeless streets and alleys, where each turn brings a new surprise and a new story, to the smell of burning incense from ornate temples with a pagoda huddled beside a modern skyscraper; from the intoxicating aromas of cooking meat and steaming broth to the blasts of horns and bursts of motorbike exhaust—everywhere is chaos yet, somehow, everywhere is calm- at least this is how I’ve always felt here.

Saigon, or if you prefer, Ho Chi Minh City, is a place of contrasts perfectly blended together in pulsating and dizzying energy that is quite unlike any other city in the world.

No question, it will spark curiosity right into your soul. No question, everyone needs to see Saigon.

As for the four of us, wide-eyed and jet-lagged after some 30 hours of travel, we wasted no time jumping right in with something our girls know well: pho. Perhaps the most universally popular of all Vietnamese food.

But unlike at home, it was pho for breakfast. Served with high-octane Vietnamese coffee and a French baguette. We’d repeat this most mornings during our trip.

Bonsai Boat Cruise along the Saigon River – Ho Chi Minh City

On our first evening the city we took a leisurely evening float on the Saigon River. The Bosai Boat Cruise included dinner, singing, dancing, cold beer, and the downtown skyline—increasingly lighting up like the Las Vegas strip as dusk settled. With brand new skyscrapers and rooftop bars, we weren’t surprised to learn that Ho Chi Minh just produced its first real estate billionaire. The place is booming.

Wall Art at Rice Field Restaurant – Ho Chi Minh City

The next day for lunch, we indulged in some of the best local cuisine HCM has to offer, starting with lunch at the Rice Field. Overpowering murals of Vietnamese women graced the interior brick walls; modern-day decor contrasted with an actual rice field on the roof. Over the course of a few hours we ate:

Gỏi Cuốn—Fresh spring rolls
Cuốn Diếp—Shrimp & bacon rolled with mustard-greens
Bánh Khọt—Vietnamese savoury mini-pancakes
Bánh Xèo—Big yellow pancakes
Gỏi hoa chuối gà xé—Banana flower salad with shredded chicken
Tôm chiên xóc tỏi—Fried shrimp with garlic
Cá bông laukho thơm—Braised water fish with pineapple
Thịt kho trứng—Braised pork & egg
Rau muống xào tỏi—-fried morning glory with garlic
Canh chua cá bông lau—Vietnamese sour fish soup

While we digested and slowly strolled through a local market, a short monsoon erupted. We were welcomed into a small stall with a woman selling clothing to stay dry.

Then another market and another. A deep-fried banana for a snack. Another short rainfall and finally, a stroll through a neighbourhood apartment complex where there were plenty of curious children playing. It wasn’t long before we were invited into a small home where, soon, all the children were playing together.

Jet lag in full effect at Ko Sushi – Vinh Khánh Street – Ho Chi Minh City

That night, our children asleep on our laps, My wife and I ate delicious sushi at Ko Sushi in the popular local street food area of Vĩnh Khánh (District 4).

Off the main tourist track, and far from Ben Thanh market, Vinh Khanh Street is a place to just sit back, eat, watch, listen, smell, drink—and repeat.

After checking in to the Equatorial Hotel and enjoying a quick late-night dip in the pool with our temporarily refreshed children, we all easily fell fast asleep.

Rooftop Pool at Equatorial Hotel – Ho Chi Minh City

The following morning, the wind gusted through the bustling humid streets while the sun attempted to break through the overcast sky. Hangdo, our travel guide from Les Rives Tours, picked us up to begin our journey to the Mekong Delta—but not before Vietnamese coffee of course!

Hangdo was all smiles and full of information about the city and our upcoming tour as we took a speed boat up the Saigon River rather than battle street traffic.

We passed floating markets and slums through a series of canals; we flew past fishing boats until we arrived at the mighty Mekong River.

Starting in Tibet, the river runs through China, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia before entering Vietnam and emptying into the sea. Rice fields, water coconuts, sugar cane, tapioca, and yucca are all farmed along the hidden estuaries of the river. This idyllic setting, known as the rice bowl of Vietnam, makes it hard to imagine that 9 million people live only an hour away in Ho Chi Minh.

After a visit to a python farm, we enjoyed a traditional lunch paired with homemade honey whiskey. Afterward,

Hangdo, ever patient and still full of smiles and information, traversed the river back to the city.

The next morning we took another tour. This time, we followed the river to the Cu Chi Tunnels while snacking on mangosteens, custard apples, lingonberries and lychees along with our a Bánh mì sandwich.

One minute it was sunny, the next, dark clouds overpowered the sky and a torrential downpour ensued.

The weather in the south, as Hangdo explains, is like a woman: unpredictable. Throughout the day, she can be happy one minute and the next, full of passion, then anger, then calm again; you never know how long each will last. In the north, she continues, when it rains—it rains for long consistent periods of time—like a man who is always grumpy.

Along the way, ships painted with fish eyes on the bow passed slowly by. There are many explanations for these painted eyes. Fishermen and seafarers of all countries are known for their superstitions, and the Vietnamese are no exception. Some say that the eyes are intended to help the boats at sea find their way back to land. Others say the eyes are meant to scare off sharks or water monsters, or are meant to bring good luck and fortune. Some fishermen believe their boats are like fish—beings with souls that must also have eyes to steer clear of danger.(1)

Cu Chi Tunnels , a vast network of underground passages built and used by the Viet Cong to avoid detection during the Vietnam War, were a highlight for the girls. The girls fit fine but my wife and I barely fit through the tunnels (even though they’d been made 30% bigger for tourists), and I shivered at the site of the B52 bomb craters; it’s impossible not to be moved and in awe of this tragic part of Vietnam’s history.

After yet another delicious meal at the tunnels,we said our goodbyes to Hangdo and she headed back via boat. We stayed in the countryside.

Two quiet days passed as we rested up near Cu Chi. The only major event was a small feast of scorpions and crickets in honour of my late friend, Cam Webb (you’ll have to watch to film to see why). Later, super-spicy octopus and crawfish. We washed it all down with vodka and tea.

Whether it was the kittens that roamed the restaurants for scraps, the goats that sat outside our hotel room, the swans, ducks, spiders, or catfish (that ironically ate dog food), our children remained entertained with this new world they were experiencing.

Next, a 40-minute flight took us to the island of Phu Quoc. Braving a storm blown in from the Philippines, we made our way to the beach to watch monstrous waves crash against the shore while palms trees held on for dear life against the wind.

The Pool at The Novotel Resort – Phu Quoc

We stayed at Novotel Resort, set on the island's well-known Truong Beach. After turning in for the day, we all lay together quietly and listened to the storm.

By morning, the sun was shining and we took cruising bikes and even a scooter around the resort before heading to the pool.

Come evening, we took the hotel shuttle to the bustling Night Market in Duong Dong—the main city of the island. We browsed the stalls and ate shaved coconut ice cream, crepes, and calamari

Much like Ho Chi Minh, the island, nestled in the Gulf of Thailand, appeared poised to have a tourism explosion. But, from our conversations with the local vendors, aside from backpackers, the tourists were still mostly from Japan, China, and Russia.

Sunkissed and chilled-out we floated in the sea and melodically rode the waves as the sun slowly sank behind the horizon. Together, we enjoyed one last evening at our luxurious abode—appreciating the plumbing and hospitality.

For our last day in Vietnam, we headed 3 hours north of the city to the small farming town of Binh Phuc. There wasn’t much in the way of tourism—just rubber trees and cashew farms.

Invited to dine with a local family, we sat cross-legged on the floor sipping homemade rice wine, beer, and endless courses of:

Chả giò—Fried spring rolls
Xôi đậu phộng—Sticky rice with peanuts
Gà chiên nước mắm—Fried chicken with fish sauce
Bánh xèo—Pancakes
Cà ri gà—Chicken curry

Seated on the patio, satisfied and sleepy, we listened to the rain fall against the darkening mountain backdrop. Softly at first, and then so hard it caused a momentary power outage.

The children played on through the outage—riding around the living room on toys while munching on lychee and pineapple. That moment, like many, was worth savouring.

That night, we slept on the floor—a traditional Vietnamese bed—of our host home. Woken by the morning crow of a rooster, then subsequently an entire orchestra, we enjoyed one last bowl of pho and one last Vietnamese coffee before heading to the market to pick up a few souvenirs. In the market, our blonde daughters were swarmed by curious locals—desperate to take pictures and touch their hair. Although the girls were not fans of the extra attention, they allowed it; it was an experience to remember.

All four of us on one scooter – which our local hosts called “Vietnam Style” I had the sense that we’d barely scratched the surfaced of this place, which made saying goodbye all the more difficult. But, gave us a good reason to return.

Riding a scooter “Vietnam Style” on Phu Quoc

It’s hard to imagine that, despite the ravages of war, continuous occupancy by other nations, and being virtually cut off from the rest of the world until the ’90s, Ho Chi Minh City has become a vibrant, cultural hub that is bursting at the seams.

Hangdo told us city officials have stated a plan to remove all 7 million scooters in the next decade and replace them with 20,000 buses. How tragic that would be. It may be an unfair comparison, but to me Saigon, without scooters, would be like Egypt without the pyramids, the Caribbean without white sandy beaches, Paris without the Louvre. Those elements are etched into the culture and fabric of each unique city; they are part of why we visit and, more importantly, why we love those places.

As a family, there is no question Vietnam, and Ho Chi Minh specifically, captured our hearts and awoke our senses.

Source:

(1) https://fishbio.com/field-notes/mekong-basin/eyes-afloat

Joel PrimusApril 20, 2019Comment