I used to think I was a patient person: standing in the muggy evening heat outside the arrivals terminal waiting for my mum proved otherwise. Perhaps I was impatient as the flight was late, two hours had passed since it had supposed to land. Maybe it was because the whole holiday was pushed back, originally planned for May 2020 before the pandemic swept the earth shutting down borders and canceling plans. Or maybe I was just excited, it had been over a year and a half since I waved goodbye to her back at home and left adventuring.
At first I perked up for every group that exited the airport doors but soon my attention began to wander to the other people waiting with us. Loved ones spotted each other, families and friends reunited. One woman, dressed not so subtly in a metallic outfit of crop top, mini skirt and matching platform boots was particularly interesting. It wasn't just the outfit (or dramatic makeup that went with it) it was the bunch of flowers that she held adorned with a "I love you, Chris!" sign. I wondered if Chris was expecting this over the top greeting.
My people watching was put on hold as soon as my mum appeared through the airport doors. She seemed lost. It's overwhelming, the welcome gallery, even if you're not scanning the the vast array of faces for ones that you know. She soon saw us waving, and made her way over for a fairly sweaty hug (on our end, not hers). As we made our way to the taxi, she told us of her travel mishaps, from feeling like she was going to miss her connecting flight to realising it was delayed. I was just happy that she'd made it to us, and that our adventures together could begin.
We'd booked accommodation in District 1; a cute 70's style traditional family house, tucked down a side street near to the popular Bui Vien walking street. Luckily for us, the sounds from the nightclubs that line Bui Vien were non-existent, the tightly packed apartments created a sound barrier, letting us sleep through the night. That didn't mean the street was quiet. Early in the morning, our Vietnamese neighbours woke up for the day, and were sure let everyone know about it. At one point, I wouldn't have been surprised to open my eyes and find them chatting on the end of bed I could hear them so clearly. Each morning, the hubbub seemed less and less as I grew accustomed to life in Vietnam's largest city.
Our first day in HCMC (Saigon, to those who prefer) we visited most of the tourist hotspots: The Ben Thanh market, where mum almost made a stall holder cry with her hard line bargaining whilst picking up some sunglasses. The post office, which to my surprise is still functioning despite mainly being used as a fancy instagram backdrop. The Notre Dame Cathedral (Yes, Vietnam has one too) that we actually couldn't see much of due to it being under renovations. And Ben Nghe for some delicious "street food" from their indoor market - a place that reminded me of more of a mini London's Borough market than other street food market i'd been to in Asia.
The War Remnants Museum was a particularly hard hitting place to visit. Most of the narrative was shared through harrowing and confronting war photography, the atrocities explained through the captions underneath. I knew that it wasn't going to be a fun place to visit, but I wasn't prepared for images of dismemberment or the gleeful look in a soldiers eyes as he tortured another human being. After an hour or so of looking round the museum, we were more than ready to leave the stillness and hushed whispers behind, rejoining the chaos of the city.
It was that afternoon that we encountered our only real "scams" of the holiday. Where our waitress managed round up a 240,000 VND (£8) bill (plus tax) to a number far closer to 400,000 VND (£13). At first we paid, slightly confused before realising that the local tax couldn't have possibly added up to that much. After some quibbling and a lot of loud discussions about it on the street outside, we finally got our money back.
The second scam "the shoe fixer" wasn't really a scam as much as someone not taking no as an answer. All the while as we sat having our drinks, shoe shiners would eye up the unstuck sole of Ben's sandals and try and convince him to hand them over for a fix. He wasn't interested. One man, not taking no for an answer, crawled beneath the table and started fixing it anyway before eventually getting it off of Ben's feet. After a bit of back and forth about whether Ben would hand over his other shoe, the first was returned and Ben handed over 60,000 VND (£2) - leaving the area with one extremely clean shoe*.
Taking full advantage of city conveniences, our second day started with a Banh Mi delivered to our Airbnb accommodation. A crusty baguette filled with fried eggs and herbs in my case, and a filling of meat and pate for Mum and Ben. It was just what we needed for the full day ahead of us.
The evening before we popped into a local travel agent and organised joining a tour to the Cu Chi Tunnels and our bus was to arrive at 8am. There was one stop on the way to the tunnels, Handciapped Handcrafts - a state run facility where those affected congenitally by the ongoing effects of Agent Orange are employed and housed by the state while they produce traditional art. The art they made from seashells, eggshells and lacquer was lovely - although not to my taste - I just felt like I didn't really need to be there. Although our guide was in no way pushy, I resent being led to a place where my only point of being there is to be guilted into spending money.
As we followed our guide around Cu Chi, gunshots blasted, creating an eerie soundtrack to our humid walk through the jungle. We were shown the construction methods used by the Viet Cong to build these tunnels, and the horrific traps they would set. We learnt of life lived under the earth - how smoke can be diverted from underground kitchens and how ambushes could be set. We also learned a lot about our guide - he had a story to tell and it wasn't following the propaganda we'd seen elsewhere. His story wasn't one of victory, his south Vietnamese father was killed by the Viet Cong because he had a desirable house, and he himself was blacklisted from any governmental jobs due to being born in the wrong place.
We could have shot guns whilst at Cu Chi, I feel if it wasn't for the exorbitant price (meant to symbolise the costs spent by the Americans during the war but more likely a money grab) that Ben might have given it a go. Mum and I were happy to give this portion of the tour a miss.
Near the end of the tour we had the chance to go into the tunnels ourselves. The earthen steps led steeply down, the walls slowly narrowing in as the ceiling descended. I was soon on hands and knees, crawling through the dirt as the light grew fainter and fainter. As I had deliberated about going into the tunnels, the guide was no-where to be seen, the light from above faded and I crawled forward into the darkness. My breath grew loud to my ears, my heart thumped out of my chest - luckily one of my tour mates heard me in my panic and pointed out an exit tunnel for me to use. I couldn't have left any faster, mindless of the dirt i raced towards the light filtering down. Ben managed the whole 200m stretch of tunnels somehow, he even had to descend another set of stairs.
Once back in the city we ordered a grab taxi to take us over to the Jade Emperor Pagoda; a working temple that was frankly, underwhelming. After a 15 minute look around - we had to stretch it out after the 20 minute taxi - we decided upon a walk along the river instead. After a lovely meal out and a couple of drinks from a rooftop bar, our time in HCMC was over and it was time to catch some sleep before catching a flight the next day.
Trip date : May 2024
*It's worth pointing out that by the end of our trip his sandal had fallen apart worse than it was to begin with.
Lovely and honestly descriptive as always