Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City?

Most history books will tell you that after crashing through the gates of the Presidential Palace in 1975 the first official act of the victorious Communists was to rename Saigon, that symbol of Western decadence and imperialism, after the late hero of Vietnamese unity and the People's War, Ho Chi Minh. Now, the clumsy title of Ho Chi Minh City is rigidly enforced by the nation's Communist overlords in stark denial of the city's rich history, and woe betide anyone caught calling it 'Saigon'.

The truth is a bit more complicated. For one thing, the vast majority of what is now Ho Chi Minh City is manifestly not Saigon. After the end of the war and reunification the city underwent such massive and rapid expansion that many suburbs and outlying small towns were swallowed up. The most famous example of this being Cholon aka Chinatown aka District 5, which until the 1960s at least was several miles away from Saigon. Of the city's 24 urban and suburban districts, only three or four were even partially incorporated into Saigon before the 1970s.

Also, there's nothing subversive about using the old title. Most Vietnamese will use the terms interchangeably, and if they don't it's usually to distinguish the modern city from the old historic center. The government itself doesn't seem to care; the airport code is SGN, and even the official city tourism office is called SaigonTourist.

Of course, Saigon is a lot easier and sexier than Ho Chi Minh City, so I'll stick with that.

Street Eats

I'm not the first person to 'discover' the joys and pitfalls of street food in Vietnam, and no wonder. It's head and shoulders above what you'd find in any other country I've been to, and it's everywhere.

The Vietnamese concept of a 'restaurant' is a great deal more complex than in the West, where you basically have street stalls, sit-down restaurants with menus, and not a great deal in between. In Vietnam there is a huge gray area in between those two. I have tried to pin down some of the gradations:

1. Proper street stalls, usually selling sandwiches (banh mi), small fried doughnuts with sesame seeds, or fruit.

2. One-pot establishments with only one thing to order, usually a soup or rice dish - actually, usually pho.

3. Same as above, but with several dishes behind glass to choose from.

At this point, the eatery in question probably still doesn't have its own piece of real estate. Instead it will have three or four plastic tables with small plastic stools. On those tables (depending on the dish) will be anything up to and including: a toilet-paper dispenser in lieu of napkins, a small bowl of chili oil/chili sauce/fresh chilis, fresh herbs like basil and coriander, bean sprouts, nuoc nam (Vietnamese fish sauce), soy sauce, lime wedges, and salt, as well as chopsticks, forks, and spoons (but never knives).

The picture above is a good example of 2. It was where I usually got breakfast and it served delicious grilled pork com tam, or pork ribs over rice (20,000 VND).

4. Now the restaurants has its own address and maybe even a menu, though usually written on the wall rather than on paper. The decor is still minimalist, by which I mean cheap.

5. Now all the cooking takes place out of sight and there is a printed menu, though the english translation (if there is one) may take sme effort to figure out.

6. Western-style restaurants with waiters and menus (usually in Vietnamese and English - the menus, not the waiters).

Some words of caution: for what I assume are reasons of economy, Vietnamese dishes often leave the bones in, including in soups and stir-fries, which can be a hassle. They will also laugh at you if you can't use chopsticks right.

One last thing: the Vietnamese concept of how much food makes a filling meal is very different from the US, which is not surprising. I was hungry the entire first week here, and others simply ordered two servings of everything. As a result I lost five pounds - the Vietnamese Diet.

The Expat Ghetto

This is where I live, down an alley along Co Bac Street. Most countries don't bother giving alleys their own numbers, but the alley system in Saigon is so dense that to leave them anonymous would be too confusing.

The neighborhood is popularly known as the 'Backpacker area' or, less charitably, the 'expat ghetto'. The reasons for this are plain: it is a centrally-located hub of cheap guesthouses, cheap food, and travel agencies. The three main budget-tourist drags - De Tham, Pham Ngu Lao, and Bui Vien - all connect to each other here.

So it's an odd contrast of bustling Asian street life, complete with livestock on the pavement, and bewildered-looking Westerners gathering up the nerve to cross the intersections (which have traffic lights!) and go looking for a decent pizza.

It's OK for a little while, but eventually the noise (from traffic and roosters) and the swarms of backpackers gets to be a bit much. Plus, living in a single room guesthouse can get claustrophobic - especially since I don't have my own key and I have to ring the doorbell if I come home after 10 PM, forcing the poor serving girl to wake up and let me in.

Rise and Shine

While walking down Dong Khoi in search of some new reading material I was approached by a small boy carrying a brush and a bottle of bootblack.

"Shoe shine, mister?"

Usually I just ignore them, but my one good pair of shoes was looking rather scuffed so I sat down on a bench and had him get to work. His English was pretty good.

"I shine shoes very well - and cheap."

I was skeptical "Really?"

"Oh yeah, five dollars American. In Caravelle Hotel, cost ten dollars".

No shit. Hard to imagine that a shoeshine on the pavement only costs half as much as in the country's most expensive hotel. Needless to say, I wasn't going to pay him five dollars.

At this point two little girls carrying packets of postcards appeared out of the mist. Once again I usually give such types the cold shoulder, but again I was held captive and I did need some postcards, so I got one. The other little girl was put off. "You buy from her and not me? That's not fair!"

You have to admire someone selling postcards on the street at the age of 8 who still has a sense of justice.

Cast Iron or Tin Foil?

So it turns out I'm not so bulletproof as I thought.

After a scant two and a half weeks in Saigon I'd already grown cocky about the place. I crossed the street (usually) without fear and I cheerfully dined at street vendors as if I hadn't a care in the world.

Foolishness! Yesterday I was so ill i could barely stand up. It was the whole lot: diarrhea, vomiting, fever, weakness, dehydration. I managed to nurse myself back to health with some antibiotics and Revive (a curious mix between 7-up and Gatorade, made by Pepsico) but man, I can't remember the last time I felt so physically debilitated. Ho Chi Minh's revenge, I guess.

The culprit was probably some undercooked meat; I don't drink the water and I've been tossing the fresh herbs into my pho since the day i got here, so that's the most likely candidate. I suppose i got of easy; some people in my TEFL program were laid low for days at a time.