Reporting from Saigon

by aengelson | September 2nd, 2010

Shopping for flip-flops and sunglasses at Ben Thanh Market, Saigon.

We had the day off on the Vietnamese National Holiday, so we decided to take a little getaway down to Ho Chi Minh City, otherwise known as Saigon. I hadn’t been yet during our one year living in Vietnam. Joanie and I did visit HCMC during our round-the-world trip back in 2000, and now it seems quite different. Click here or on the photos in this post for a Flickr gallery of more pictures.

Mostly, I noticed fewer bicycles and motorbikes, many more cars, and slower traffic. It has a different feel from Hanoi–more commercial, and really, almost more Western (although we’ve just spent most of our first day in the Dong Khoi area, which is a place of fancy hotels, shi-shi restaurants and shops selling everyday consumer goods like Gucci, Nike, and Prada).

Our first day, we wandered the city a bit, and visited the Ben Thanh Market, a covered emporium selling shoes, hair clippies, t-shirts and other things you won’t find at Gucci. Then lunch at a pho place, of course.

Then a visit to the old South Vietnam presidential palace, known officially as Independence Palace. I totally dig this place–it’s been kept just about exactly as it was in 1975 when North Vietnamese tanks smashed through the gates  and flew the big yellow star flag from the roof. Funky 1970s decor, a collection of animal heads and stuffed leopards, elaborate guest and meeting rooms–plus lots of rotary-dial telephones. It’s like a set from Austin Powers–complete with a mod “gambling room” and hipster bar, a cinema (where you can see the old projection room, too), and all sorts of old telexes, radios, and other James Bond villain-lair stuff. Reminded me of the old 1970s-ea Air Force One they have on display at the Museum of Flight in Seattle.

I was curious to find the former president’s library. On the shelf I spotted Henry James, Alex Haley, Graham Greene (but not The Quiet American) and some Winston Churchill. I didn’t see any Machiavelli, but I didn’t look too closely.

At the former South Vietnamese presidential palace

The girls liked the basement, with its secret tunnels, and lots more rotary phones, battle maps, and gigantic vacuum-tube radio equipment. Too bad the place was the headquarters of some inept and corrupt regimes the US propped up during its fiasco of a war. One wonders if some day the Afghan palace or the Green Zone in Baghdad will be open to curious tourists…

After a tiring, hot day we went out for dinner at a Spanish Tapas restaurant, Pachara, (not exactly local cuisine, but it was near our hotel, and super delicious–even the girls liked it).

Next up: Cholon and Dam Sen amusement park!

One Response to “Reporting from Saigon”

  1. A little take on the pic of the heli-pad at the Presidential Palace.
    It’s right above former President Nguyen Van Thieu’s bedroom. There’s story about how Nguyen Cao Ky, who was the Premier at the time, liked to land his own helicopter there while the president was sleeping just to get him ticked off.
    That’s him attending the funeral of Vo Van Kiet, former PM of current VN, which was held in the reception hall. This is a guy who bragged during the war that he enjoyed flying bombing missions to the North.

    http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/images/2008/06/20080614151953vvkiet_funeral_3.jpg

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About This Site

Andy Engelson is a writer and editor who lives in Hanoi, Vietnam. He's currently working on a historical novel set in the Northwest United States during World War II. He's also a freelance writer, essayist and member of the Hanoi Writer's Collective. In a former life, he edited Washington Trails magazine for six years and before that was freelance journalist. He likes to hike, travel, and play with his family.

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“What’s this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way,” thought he, and fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved. But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky, the lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds gliding slowly across it. “How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all as I ran,” thought Prince Andrew “not as we ran, shouting and fighting, not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity, all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but that. But even if it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace. Thank God!…” — Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

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