Go to
page April 13, 2001
After returning to Ho Chi Minh City from my trip up north, I again tried to contact as many of my email friends as I could. I went through my list of people who wrote to me on a regular basis, calling their homes or cellphones and trying to arrange appointments to visit each one. Many times, either the person was not available or several people wanted to meet at the same time. Gradually, I managed to meet almost everyone and I apologized to the people I people I could not meet.
I met Quan in the
morning and asked him if he could take me to see a doctor. My ear had
been bothering me for several days and I was quite sure I had an infection.
Quan took me to a hospital frequented mainly by Vietnamese and explained
that the hospital most widely used by foreigners was very expensive. I
saw the doctor and received a prescription, which I promptly filled. I
took some medication right away and resumed my seat on the back of Quan's
motorbike for a trip to the War Museum.
The War Museum
was very interesting. Outside in the courtyard were displays of military
hardware, and inside were exhibits reflecting upon the Vietnamese experience
during "The American War". In addition to a very heavy dose of anti-American
rhetoric, there were photographs of horrific scenes for which I was not
prepared. It was a sobering exhibit, and I was somewhat depressed as we
left the museum. Once we returned to the bright sunshine, I cheered myself
up and we continued on our way.
The next stop was the Tay
Son Lacquer Factory. Here, craftsmen prepared furniture and works
of art of incredible beauty. There were lacquer paintings, mother of pearl
wall hangings and eggshell furniture. We observed the artists at work
and I marvelled at the skill and patience involved in the production of
these masterpieces. I regretted that, since I was on a tight budget, I
could not buy a houseful of furnishings to take home with me.
I arranged to meet my friend Thao at her home. She takes care of her elderly
father and could not leave her house to visit me. Thao had written to me
for many months and I was very happy to finally meet her. We chatted for
awhile and talked about many things, and soon it was time for me to go.
I realized that I had overbooked myself as far as meeting my friends was
concerned. I just didn't have enough time as I needed to spend with each
of my friends.
I met my friend Chi and we planned to walk around Saigon and visit several
historic places. We went to the Ho Chi Minh Museum, which was a short
walk from my hotel. This museum was less depressing than the War Museum,
focusing on traditional Vietnamese lifestyle and culture. There were the
obligatory military exhibits on the museum grounds, but the theme of the
museum itself was decidedly more friendly than that of the War Museum.
Our next stop was the Runification Palace, formerly the Presidential Palace.
After a wait of about 30 minutes for an official tour guide, we toured
the elegant rooms and exhibits of the palace. Guests are not allowed to
roam the palace interior freely, therefore we were excorted by a young
lady dressed in the traditional Vietnamese long dress.
The meeting rooms were ornate and the palace interior was huge.
We were treated to a short demonstration of Vietnamese music by a pair
of young girls playing traditional instruments. We toured the underground
bunker complex where the President of South Vietnam retreated when necessary.
Once outside the
palace itself, we were allowed to walk freely around the manicured lawns
and gardens.On display near the front driveway was one of the two Russian-built
T-72 tanks of the North Vietnamese Army which crashed through the front
gates of the palace on April 30, 1975, the day Saigon fell to the communists.
On the walk back to the hotel, I asked Chi about the young boys who walked
around the streets of Saigon tapping on a piece of pipe. I knew they were
selling something, but since they carried no newspaper, nor post cards,
nor cigarettes, I couldn't figure out what was going on. Chi told me that
they were Pho salesmen. She explained that the tapping of the metal pipe
was the signal that Pho was for sale. If someone wanted a bowl of rice
noodles, he would simply stop the boy, and for about 3,000 Dong (20 cents),
the boy will bring a bowl of Pho to you.
He works in partnership with a street vendor who cooks Pho on a rolling
cart as he strolls through the streets searching for customers. The boy
will bring a bowl of Pho to you and return later to pick up the bowl and
spoon. I thought about how convenient it would be to have a Pho boy in
North Park.
I asked the hotel receptionist if they had a gym nearby where I could get a quick workout. She directed me to a gym on Ham Nghi Street where I found an open-air weight room available for 50 cents per day. The equipment was antiquated compared to Bally's, but was functional and much better than nothing. I began my workout, but could not perform to my usual level because of the heat, which hovered around 94 degrees Fahrenheit. Nonetheless, I did the best I could, then began walking back to the hotel, looking for a place to eat along the way.
I found a neat
little open-air cafe on Ham Nghi Street, not far from the gym. I stepped
inside and smiled at the lady sitting at the front counter. I motioned
to her as if to ask where I should sit. She motioned to the rear of the
restaurant. I stepped to a table in the back and looked back at her. She
again motioned to the rear. Puzzled, I kept going to the rear. I went
into the kitchen and the cook motioned toward the toilet. I explained
to him that I wanted to eat. He burst into laughter and escorted me back
to the front of the restaurant, explaining to the lady that I wanted to
eat, not use the toilet. The whole restaurant erupted with laughter. The
lady was somewhat embarrassed, but was laughing too hard to show it. For
the rest of my vacation, each time I went to the gym, I stopped to eat
at this restaurant. And each time I did, we all laughed like crazy about
our misunderstanding. 
Back
to the Top
Go to page 1 3