Day 9: District 3
There are twenty-four districts in Ho Chi Minh City. Most tourists stick to Districts 1 and 3, possibly veering into 5 to visit Chinatown markets. My hotel was in District 1, the primary zone for visitors, surrounded by shopping streets and French Colonial architecture. On my second day in Saigon, I set off to explore District 3 on Elaine’s recommendation. Shockingly, I forewent the hotel breakfast and headed for a vegan-friendly cafe about half an hour away.
Even though it was still early in the morning, the sun was already blazing and I was sweating profusely by the time I arrived at the small street-side bakery. The cashier was kind enough to unfurl the big umbrella over the little stool where I perched outside with my vegan croissant and latte. I watched the women come and go on their motorbikes, shedding layers of protective clothing as they dismounted—protection from the sun? Or from possible skidding? Or both? I’m still not sure.
Eager for both a bathroom and some air conditioning, I decided to visit the War Remnants Museum next, also in District 3. The museum was opened in 1975 as the “Exhibition House for US and Puppet Crimes” according to Wikipedia, then renamed to “Exhibition House for Crimes of War and Aggression” in 1990, and finally to the “War Remnants Museum” in 1995 after the U.S. embargo was lifted. The second title was the most accurate—the atrocities recorded and displayed in the museum are horrific and countless.
Of course I knew this going in, but I had never before been exposed to this much detail about the disgusting and cruel behavior of the American military and the lasting effects on the Vietnamese land and people. I’ve avoided the Ken Burns documentary for decades, mostly because I knew how much it would haunt me. The photos of the Agent Orange victims alone…how is it possible that the Vietnamese people are so forgiving to allow Americans back into their country? And though the monetary gain is the motivation, to express such kindness to foreign visitors like me? I don’t know what I can possibly say about these truly evil war crimes that hasn’t already been said, and more eloquently. But: fuck war.
The museum offered no respite from the heat, only a few fans in the galleries, so back out I went to walk and process what I’d just seen and hopefully find somewhere cool to sit, something cool to drink. I ended up finding a funny Joe and the Juice knockoff, which served the purpose. Once I’d recovered enough, I walked back to the hotel to rest before my evening food tour.
I’d read about XO Tours in the somewhat recent NY Times “36 Hours in Ho Chi Minh City” piece, and normally wouldn’t have been compelled to join a group of strangers for such a thing, but the group is run by all women, and they take you around on scooters to districts and restaurants you wouldn’t find otherwise. My guide, Giang (pronounced Zang), met me outside my hotel and off we zoomed to meet up with seven other tourists and their drivers, all women in their twenties, at a noodle shop in District 5. Bun Bo Hue is a noodle soup with thinner, brown rice noodles and slices of well-done beef. Like pho, you add bean sprouts and herbs and chili. The taste was similar, but more sour, and fattier. It was delicious, but I didn’t want to fill up too fast.
From there, we went to a “wet market” in Chinatown, where women in pointed hats sat on the ground with baskets of unfamiliar fruit, green oranges, lumpy green cluster apples that resembled artichokes, dragon fruit, jackfruit, durian, and various spiny and nut-like fruits that looked like lychee on the inside. Next, we cruised to District 8 for grilled goat that we wrapped in lettuce and herbs and dipped in fermented soybean paste, and prawns dipped in salt mixed with kumquat juice.
In District 7, we paused by a sleek, modern pedestrian bridge with a rainbow-lit waterfall down its side to digest our food in the fancy expat neighborhood built by the Taiwanese but mostly populated by Koreans. All around us, tiny toddlers zoomed around in motorized plastic vehicles—like the Barbie Jeep of my youth—all covered in colored lights that blinked and blazed as they sped around a circle track with their parents chatting on the sidelines. “You smell that?” our tour leader said. “Smells like money.”
As we sped through the busy streets, across highways, and over bridges, I leaned over Giang’s shoulder to chat, talking loudly over the roaring motors. We discovered early on into our drive that we are both ARMY, Kim Taehyung is our bias. She was an early fan, and loved them in the “I Need U” era. She was thrilled to meet a fellow fan, and she asked enthusiastically about what songs I liked, but also about me—where I lived, what I did for work, where else I traveled.
I asked about her in return and learned that she was born in the middle of the country but grew up in Ho Chi Minh City and went to university there. She graduated with a degree in Tourism just last year and worked selling visas before switching to XO. When she’s not working, she loves singing karaoke with friends, traveling about the city, and editing short videos—she might try to build a career as a video editor someday. Her dream trip would be to Switzerland; she loves the scenery. “Like a movie,” she said, and I asked if she’d seen those scenes in Crash Landing on You (she had) and recommended Force Majeure.
By the end of the tour, I felt extremely emotional—what an incredible and kind human. If it were normal to sponsor other people’s travel, I would pay her way to Switzerland for sure. Giang hasn’t even been to the north of Vietnam; the inflation makes it hard to get by, and harder to leave. The White American guilt is very real; the unfairness of it all, that I can travel freely and she cannot, that I can spend money on vacations like these regularly and she’s working a full-time job in addition to leading tours five nights a week… all of it.
Sigh. It seems my lighthearted travel blog hasn’t been so lighthearted this time. I’ll try to do better. In any case, thanks to XO, I had a dreamy last night in Vietnam. Tomorrow: to Seoul.