Saigon and Beyond

Vietnam’s largest city is now officially known as Ho Chi Minh City (or HCMC for short). But in my mind, it will always be Saigon, a name that immediately conjures up images of young American soldiers and the feeling of sensuous tropical heat. 

The Saigon that I found, however, wasn’t quite what I expected. It actually bore a certain resemblance to today’s New York City – except for the fact that February temperatures hovered in the mid- to upper-80s. Like New York City, Saigon has an abundance of modern skyscrapers, constant noise, less than pristine air quality, and a very high cost of living. Additionally, it has a driving pulse, round-the-clock energy, and an edgy youthfulness. 

A view of Saigon from my hotel room

Nighttime in Saigon, around the corner from my hotel

Until 1975, Saigon was the capital of South Vietnam. Since the Communist takeover, the city’s population has grown from 1 million to 13 million people. According to An, it is the economic, financial and educational center of the country. With the end of the U.S. embargo in 1995, international corporations, beginning with Coca Cola, opened offices in the city. Today you’ll find Nike, major banks, insurance companies, airlines and many familiar corporate names in downtown Saigon’s high-rise buildings. And if you’re seeking coffee of the non-weasel variety, just stop in to one of the many Starbuck’s. 

Even before arriving in Vietnam, I’d heard horror stories about Saigon’s traffic. Cars and 5.5 million motorbikes clog the roads throughout the sprawling city. In my travels, I’d seen plenty of bad traffic conditions, but I’d never before had to dodge motorbikes that sped down the sidewalks, weaving their way through crowds of pedestrians. 

That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy exploring Saigon on foot. Our hotel, well located in District 1, was around the corner from a lovely park and the Independence Palace (formerly used by the South Vietnamese president). It was also within easy walking distance of some of the city’s major sights. We admired the beautiful architecture of the Central Post Office, designed by Charles Eiffel in the late 19^thcentury. Right across the street, and also dating from the French colonial era, was the Notre Dame Basilica.  

Saigon's Central Post Office

Notre Dame Basilica 

Behind the cathedral, we stumbled upon a pleasant surprise – the pedestrians-only “book street,” a shady oasis of calm lined with bookstores and coffee shops.  

Book Street

I braved the traffic and the afternoon heat to check out the vast Ben Thanh Market – a never-ending maze of vendors selling everything imaginable. I really wasn’t planning to do any major shopping, but Saigon was our last stop in Vietnam, and I had some local currency that I wanted to use up. 

At dusk one day, we walked to the pedestrian promenade that runs from City Hall to the Saigon River. A statue of Uncle Ho overlooks the promenade. I wonder what he thinks as he looks out at the exclusive designer shops, luxury hotels, and multinational corporate offices. The promenade starts to fill with people as the sun goes down. Displays of colored lights decorate the skyscrapers, trees, and sidewalks, creating a festive atmosphere. And notice the Saigon Opera House – it would be perfectly at home in any European city. 

Ho Chi Minh at the beginning of the pedestrian promenade

Opera House

While we were in Saigon, we had lunch at the bustling Saigon Pho Hung noodle house. We walked past long tables crowded with locals slurping their soup and climbed up to a relatively quiet dining area where fans whirred in a futile attempt to provide relief from the midday heat and humidity. (Sometimes authenticity requires a measure of discomfort.) An brought us to this popular restaurant to teach us pho etiquette, i.e. the proper way to construct and eat a bowl of the legendary noodle soup. First of all, he reminded us that it takes 8 to 10 hours to prepare the broth, which is seasoned with grilled cinnamon bark, star anise, coriander seeds, ginger, cardamom and ginseng. Just prior to serving, the soup is ladled into bowls and noodles are added. 

I was starving by the time servers placed bowls of pho in front of each of us. They also set out platters of fresh bean sprouts and herbs, including basil, sawmint and cilantro, to garnish broth. We were all a little hesitant at first to add the fresh vegetables, but An reassured us that this restaurant was on his unofficial “safe” list. The next step was to embellish the pho with a variety of sauces as personal taste dictated. I added fish sauce and hoisin but skipped the sriracha and hot sauce. Finally, under An’s direction, we squeezed lime juice over the entire creation without dropping the lime into the bowl. At last we were ready to dig in, and this time, I fully appreciated the complex layering of flavors and textures. 

Of course, since our OAT group consisted of Americans of a certain generation, An made sure to include a visit to the War Remnants Museum. This is a very popular destination, especially for tourists. In front of the entrance to the building, there was the incongruous scene of smiling young people snapping selfies in front of Air Force bombers, Chinook helicopters, and massive tanks. Artistic arrangements of missiles and bombs could be mistaken for pieces of modern sculpture. 

Once inside, we got the official government perspective on the war. Through maps, text, charts and photos, I was able to follow the chronology of the conflict and to see how the effects of the war are still being felt today. Some of the galleries emphasized the horrors inflicted by the U.S. forces and the bravery and suffering of the Vietnamese people. I made the conscious decision not to enter galleries devoted to the most disturbing images captured by photojournalists. I believe I’d seen them many years ago and these images were already seared in my mind. Like images of the Holocaust, they continue to haunt me. 

Another reminder of this tumultuous period in Vietnam’s history was the memorial to Thich Quang Duc, the Buddhist monk who set himself on fire to protest the South Vietnamese government’s persecution of Buddhists. The stone monument is located on a hillside overlooking the intersection where the monk’s self-immolation took place. Although the majority of the Vietnamese were Buddhist, the South Vietnamese government favored Roman Catholicism and had been actively trying to suppress Buddhism since the 1950s. 

From our base in Saigon, we ventured into the countryside on two occasions. To explore the Mekong Delta, we traveled first by bus to the town of My Tho, located about 45 miles from where the river empties into the sea. From the boat we boarded in My Tho, we got a close look at the muddy Mekong. The large amount of silt in the water accounts for its unappealing appearance. Although it was hard to imagine fish living in the murky waters, An assured us that the river is an important source of tilapia, catfish, and tiger prawns, and we did, in fact, see several fishing boats. 

According to An, this now peaceful area was the scene of frequent shooting during the American War, as one riverbank was occupied by the South Vietnamese Army and the other was under the control of the Viet Cong. 

The river was quite choppy and I was glad when our boat entered a much calmer narrow canal lined by mangrove trees and coconut palms. In order to continue, we soon had to transfer in groups of three or four to small sampans. 

A sampan like the one I traveled in 

At the village of Ben Tre, we disembarked and made our way to a waterfront restaurant where we enjoyed a seafood lunch. The shrimp and the whole fried fish (a type of gourami) were extremely tasty but the highlight of the meal was the appetizer. We were all baffled by the round basketball-sized object that was sitting on our table. Was it a new kind of melon? It turned to be a fried sticky rice ball that was hollow inside. It collapsed when our waitress cut into it with scissors. The official name of this addictively delicious treat is Xoi Chien Phong. 

Riverside restaurant in Ben Tre 

The mystery appetizer 

The area is famous for coconut plantations and after our lunch, we took a short walk to watch local workers making coconut candy. I found the confection to be too waxy for my taste, but it’s extremely popular in Vietnam. 

Our final excursion from Saigon involved a two-hour drive to a national park where we visited the famed Cu Chi tunnels. This 125-mile long network of tunnels was first developed by the Vietnamese during the French War. Later on, during the American War, the Viet Cong operated out of the tunnels. As a result, American planes dropped large loads of chemical herbicides (Agent Orange and its colorful cousins) on Cu Chi, destroying the area’s thick foliage. New forest growth has taken over the park, but bomb craters were still visible.

After we took a look at the captured U.S. aircraft and tanks, a guide showed us well-hidden entrances to tunnels, disguised ventilation openings, and traps with sharpened metal or bamboo spikes. I declined to lower myself into the tightest tunnel openings, but I was able to descend into bunkers and to crawl through some of the wider tunnels where I saw the extensive underground facilities that housed the Viet Cong military headquarters, hospitals, kitchens, etc. We also saw the “factory” where the VC recycled rubber tires into sandals. 

A model of the multi-level tunnel network

Mannequins of Viet Cong soldiers in an underground bunker

After exploring the tunnels, we headed to the nearby village of Cu Chi which today is filled with palm trees and tidy houses surrounded by flowering bushes and shrubs. We joined a local family for lunch at their home and had a lengthy conversation with two former Viet Cong fighters. It was apparent that these veterans bore no ill will towards us, or to Americans in general. And I was somewhat surprised to learn that they regularly gave money to neighbors who served in the South Vietnamese Army (and therefore don’t receive a government pension). 

Our group with Viet Cong veterans

Without a doubt, the dearest memory I take with me from Vietnam is of our OAT leader, An. His warmth, humor, care and knowledge made this trip a uniquely joyful experience. I felt honored that on one of our last nights in Saigon, he invited the entire group to meet his wife and young son in their lovely modern apartment. The success An has achieved in his life is especially remarkable given that his father and grandfather had served in the South Vietnamese Army (not for political reasons but simply so their families wouldn’t starve). With the North Vietnamese victory, An’s parents were forcibly relocated to the jungle, where he was born and raised. Due to his family background, An’s educational opportunities and job prospects were severely limited. But An’s spirit and determination wouldn’t allow him to languish in the jungle. In his teens, he set out on his own for Saigon, where he managed to find work, learn English, and eventually become a qualified tour guide, a career at which he excels. An truly personifies the best of the new Vietnam. 

Villages and Countryside of Vietnam

Although Vietnam’s cities continue to grow rapidly, the majority of the country’s population (about 65%) still lives in rural areas. Fortunately, we had a chance to observe life in villages and the countryside. 

One of the first rural areas we visited was in the north of the country, where crops grown included bananas, papayas, kumquats, and, of course, several varieties of rice. I was surprised to learn that Vietnam is the world’s second largest producer of rice (after Thailand). There are two annual rice harvests in the northern part of the country and three annual rice harvests in the south. 

We stopped at a village located between Hanoi and Ha Long to meet a family and to learn about the steps involved in rice processing. Banners at the entrance to the village proclaimed its status as a “model” or “civilized” village. An explained that this official designation meant the village met certain requirements, such as no alcoholism, basic sanitation, all children enrolled in school, etc. As part of the program, inspiring patriotic messages from the government are broadcast on loudspeakers placed throughout the village at 6 o’clock every morning. Judging from the houses we saw, the village seemed quite prosperous. 

Entrance to the "civilized" village in the north

Processing rice

While we were staying on the central coast in Hoi An, we also had a chance to get a close look at the rural side of Vietnam when we boarded cyclo-rickshaws and set out on narrow roads through the rice paddies. 

In the midst of the fields, we came across a group of people gathered at a family shrine in the local cemetery. Later, An told us that it is customary for the Vietnamese to rebury their dead after 3 years. Families turn to a shaman to determine the optimal final resting place according to feng shui principles. Failure to adhere to these principles supposedly can create problems for the descendants of the deceased. 

In Cam Thanh, a small village along the Thu Bon River, we saw many spacious modern two-story homes as well as several smaller and older dwellings. The village often experiences flooding during the rainy season. 

We stopped to visit an elderly resident of Cam Thanh, a woman in her 90s, who lives in a very flimsy-looking structure formerly used for storage. An explained that her husband had been killed in the French War and her son had been killed in the American War. Since both had served the South Vietnamese army, the woman was not entitled to any government pension and survives on the charity of the other villagers. She has a television but no telephone. When she needs help, she summons her neighbors by striking a gong. 

We watched as she prepared betel leaves to chew by smearing them first with a white paste made of slaked lime. Her longtime addiction to chewing betel leaves accounts for the rotten condition of her teeth. This is not an uncommon practice in Vietnam and other Asian countries, particularly in rural areas. 

As we walked along the Thu Bon River, we met a farmer who introduced us to his water buffalo, a gentle creature named Binh. 

During our stay in the southern coastal city of Nha Trang, we donned helmets and hopped onto motorbikes for a thrilling ride through the countryside. Don’t worry – I was the passenger, not the driver! 

In the bamboo village of Xom Gio, we met the village chief and learned about his interesting background (drafted into the South Vietnamese army, sent to a re-education camp after the North Vietnamese victory, and later achieving this position of importance). He and three generations of his family live in a simple but comfortable home. In addition to weaving bamboo baskets, they raise fighting cocks and scrawny chickens. 

With the village chief and his wife in Xom Gio

In the kitchen, we prepared lunch under the direction of the chief’s Amerasian wife. Our meal, which we ate outdoors in the shade, included soup, rice, white tuna with tomatoes, baby bok choy, mixed vegetables and squid, and a selection of tropical fruits (custard apples/cherimoya, longans/dragon eyes, guava, jackfruit, rambutans).   

And since the village is known for its bamboo basketwork, we got a lesson in basket weaving. 

Afterwards, we made a quick stop at a roadside family enterprise that produces bamboo chopsticks. 

Up in the mountains outside of Dalat, we followed a series of switchbacks through the scenic countryside on our way to a coffee plantation and an isolated “banana village.” Both were located not far from the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Coffee plantation

This area of Vietnam has rich volcanic soil, which makes it ideal for growing coffee. I was surprised to learn that Vietnam is the world’s second largest coffee producer, after Brazil. Robusta beans account for approximately 97% of the production. Along with a guide from one of the hill tribes, we visited a coffee plantation where we sampled the most exotic – and expensive – type of coffee the country produces. 

I’d never heard of weasel coffee before I came to Vietnam, but I soon heard the story of how this delicacy is produced. The weasels eat the choicest ripe coffee fruit, and these coffee berries, which pass through the digestive systems of the animals, are retrieved from the weasel poop. Supposedly, the digestive enzymes alter the taste of the coffee berries. In fact, some claim that weasel coffee has a distinctive red wine taste. Others make the claim that it helps burn fat. Even if there was some truth to these claims, I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted to let weasel coffee come into contact with my lips.

The season for harvesting coffee is October through January. Since it was mid-February, we saw only a few coffee berries remaining on the trees, along with some fragrant white blossoms. However, on the ground was large shallow basket filled with bright, shiny coffee berries. In an identical basket, we noticed curls of unprocessed weasel poop.  

I took a deep breath before entering the weasel house. In a dimly lit room, I peered through the bars of the cages at about a dozen animals of all ages. I hate to say it, but even baby weasels are not cute. 

After the weasel viewing, we went into the home of the family that owns the coffee farm. First, our guide told us more about the weasels (their diet consists of bananas and raw beef in addition to coffee fruit) and quizzed us on coffee trivia (Q: Where was coffee first grown? A: Ethiopia). 

At the coffee farm: members of the hill tribe family

Our guide preparing weasel coffee  

Then came the moment of truth. A dozen or so small glasses were arrayed on a tray. Our guide poured a small amount of weasel coffee into each glass. I was the first to take a sip of the deep, dark brew. Everyone looked at me, waiting for my reaction. “It’s okay,” I announced with relief. In fact, it tasted just like coffee, with no “extra” flavors. And although it was quite good, I’ve decided that drinking weasel coffee is so special that it deserves to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

In the nearby “banana village,” officially known as Buon Chuoi, we got an up-close look at the lifestyle of the K’ho Chil tribe, one of several hill tribes that make their home in the central highlands of Vietnam. The hill tribes, known collectively as Montagnards, have had an uneasy relationship with the Vietnamese government for several decades. Many tribes who originally lived in the north were forcibly resettled in this area. Although they were provided with land, houses and schools, the Montagnards waged an unsuccessful struggle for an independent state from 1990 to 2014. Today, the government strictly controls access to the region.

The K’ho Chil people who live in Buon Chuoi practice subsistence farming. Like many of the Montagnard tribes, they embraced Christianity while maintaining some of their traditional animist beliefs and practices. In the photo below, you can see a traditional pre-Christian totem in the foreground and the local Catholic church in the background. 

The village chief, an 86-year old man, welcomed us into his home. His wife was seated on the floor, weaving a piece of cloth in the traditional style on a simple loom. The couple has 9 children, the youngest of whom is 35 and still living at home. Interestingly, Chil tradition dictates that when a son marries, he leaves his parents’ house and moves in with his wife’s family. 

A member of the chief’s family gave us a guided tour of the village and the surrounding fields by pulling us along on a flatbed hooked to the back of his tractor. While the views were quite interesting, the roads weren’t paved, resulting in an incredibly bumpy ride. In addition, it was the dry season, so when we climbed out of the flatbed, we were covered head to tie in a layer of fine red dust. 

  

The route back to the city of Dalat brought us once again through the lush countryside of Vietnam’s central highlands. And at a stop along the way, I enjoyed a cup of coffee (the non-weasel variety) and purchased a hand-woven souvenir of my visit to the hill tribes. 

Weaving done by hill tribeswomen