We used to do this thing growing up where, instead of calling each other just “bro,” we’d make up punny nicknames with “bro” in them. Brohan, Brosef Stalin, and Seth Brogan to name a few. But one of the most popular ones, so popular that we use it decades after, was Bro Chi Minh. So it’s funny to me, after all this time, that here I finally am in Ho Chi Minh city.
Now, I’ve
done a fair bit of travelling lately, virtually exclusively in Japan. So I
thought that I had a decent understanding on how a country in Asia operates.
But Japan is only a fraction like Vietnam.
Take my
arrival. I quickly noticed that there was hardly any English – probably even
less so than in Japan. After navigating my way through the airport, I found my
baggage sitting outside the baggage claim, all lobbed together with all the
other bags of various other flights instead of waiting on the conveyer belt.
Nervous that the treats I packed for my family would count as declaring
something, I decided to high-risk it and not declare anything after a brief
check online, and nobody even waited to verify I wasn’t smuggling anything in.
Cool, so after a quick visit withdrawing a staggering 2,000,000 Vietnamese Dong
(approx. $80USD) from an ATM, I just walked right outside the airport and into
the heated onslaught that is Vietnam.
It’s
winter right now. Or, rather, winter in most parts of the northern hemisphere.
Here in Vietnam, though, it was a ripe 90 degrees, which is summer weather back
in Chicago. I had been wearing pants from originating in Japan, so I lugged my
absurdly heavy bags to a bus and awkwardly found my way on it after a lady in
it ordered me to get on. I’m just a dumb tourist, so why not. Then, with no
warning, the bus started moving. The doors were open. We were in a moving bus
with open doors.
The
biggest difference right off the bat from Vietnam and any other country I’ve
visited is the traffic. There are no rules here. Only a few stoplights exist
downtown, only at the largest intersections. So busses chug along with cars,
and of course, the millions and millions of mopeds, flocking the streets like
ants on an ant mound. They’re everywhere, from the streets, to the sidewalks,
in the alleys – mopeds simply dominate the landscape, with people of all ages
and shapes and sizes riding them. Everyone is marching to the beat of their own
drum. Especially so with this guy I saw riding on the back of someone else’s
moped with a drum strapped to his back.
After
marvelling at all of the communist posters along the way, I get off the bus,
oddly enough not having to pay (they were more concerned with getting me off
quickly than to navigate paying), and then, I meandered my way through the
streets to my hotel, which was tucked between narrow alleyways in the middle of
a block. Thank god, it has air conditioning.
But after
this 7-hour flight in a seat that certainly wasn’t designed for me, I’m
starving, so I douse myself in some sunscreen and jettison from the hotel with my
drawstring bag.
That’s where
the second most drastic change of Vietnam became apparent to me – the selling
culture. People are at the front of their shops, constantly beckoning you to
come in. People walk around carrying items for sale, too. Every twenty steps or
so, somebody shouts at you to buy something. It’s a constant tax of being in
such a densely-packed and lively city.
Now, I
make that sound bad (which it definitely was quite a bit at time), but the first
person who beckoned me said, “Hey, handsome boy! Want a massage?” I’m especially
good on the massages, but that complement went right to my ego and I’ve been
riding that high since. It doesn’t happen often, so I gather those compliments
like acorns for a cold winter. Or, rather, as cold of a winter as it gets here.
But food
was my immediate mission. When most people think of Vietnamese food, pho is
probably what comes to mind. But not for me. When I lived in Kansas, we kept
going to this restaurant called Tallgrass Brewery, and their food was so
aggressively mid. But people kept wanting to meet there for the beer and the
views, and it’d be weird to not get food when everyone else does (plus I was
always still hungry), so to not waste more of my money than necessary, I would
always order the cheapest item on the menu: their banh mi. As you probably could
guess, it was consistently underwhelming.
But Vietnam deserves a better shot, so I found this Bahn Mi place with “phuc” in the name nearby my apartment and swung by. 40,000 VND for a banh me. That’s a quarter of the money I withdrew, so $20, right? Ah, well, I’m in vacation mode, and I was hungry as shit, so why not.
But then I handed the man my 500,000
VND bill and realised my math was wrong – the entire burger cost me $2. Incredible.
Of course, it put Tallgrass Brewery’s Banh Mi to shame. The man cooked the
entire sandwich in front of me, grazing it with hot sauce and leaves and, the
coup de gras, an egg. It was a delicacy, and it amazed me that banh mi could be
so easily found everywhere across the city.
Without
any plans nor any real itinerary, I opted to walk around the town and get a
sense for what Vietnam was like. It’s easily the most hectic city I’ve ever
been in. People everywhere. No normal semblance of a sidewalk, as it’s littered
with parked mopeds, people loitering sometimes without shirts, stands, and
whatever else you might imagine. The paths were hardly linear, and crossing the
streets quickly became the most stressful part of my day (I learned quickly to
just go at the same time as a local). Prices were generally good, except for
brand-name things in actual stores, where they’re about the same, if not a
little cheaper. But it was refreshing having such a drastic change of pace than
even Tokyo, which is supposedly the busiest city in the world.
At one
point, I accidentally stumbled upon Ben Thanh Marketplace, which I actually
planned on going to tomorrow. But since I was there, why not! An entire
warehouse-sized building, crammed with microstores selling brand-name items for
prices that are more suggestions than rules. Overwhelmed by the assault of the
salespeople in the marketplace, I swam though the crowds to the exit where I
was immediately confronted by a lady more so telling me than asking to buy a
vape. I haven’t smoked in months, but you know what? There are no rules here in
Vietnam, so why not. 600,000 VND, she said. How about 500,000, I lazily tried?
Nope, the lady literally reached into my wallet and grabbed the extra 100,000 bill.
Hah! It was so ridiculous that I laughed with her as she did it. You know what,
serves me right for breaking my nicotine-free streak.
I
continued promenading around the city until it got dark, picking up a bubble
tea and a mango smoothie along the way, until I got mesmerised by the
enchanting lights of what seemed to be the bars street. You know what, I’ll put
my second dinner on hold, I thought. I need to see what this street was about.
I fuckin love lights.
That street
was hell on earth. I was constantly telling people I wasn’t looking for a drink
or to talk to their girls or to get a massage, one person after another. People
kept following me and even touching me, grabbing me to go into their bar. One
dude I straight up told “please don’t touch me,” which as a Midwesterner, is about
as angry as we get in public. Towards the end of the street, one lady amidst a
flock of other massage girls started beckoning me to her bar, and all I could
do is give her an exhausted smile, and she laughed, fully understanding how I
felt. Then, she grabbed my arm as well. That street is proof that God is either
ignorant of what goes on there or is powerless to stop it. But, yeah, anyway, I’d
totally go back later if there were more people around to take the brunt of the
salespersons.
I settled
on a final meal only a block or two away from my hotel that gave me probably
the biggest menu I’ve ever seen. It was literally 40 pages, offering myriads of
fish, seafood, noodles, burgers, pastas, meats, and everything in between. But
they had quite a selection of fish I hadn’t had before. I almost bought
rockfish, which is poisonous unless served right. But it was $80USD, so I went
with something that wouldn’t kill me for now. Not because I don’t have health
insurance out here (which I don’t), but because I figured I could probably find
it cheaper somewhere else. But I’m sure as hell going to try it before I go,
even if I have to come back to that restaurant and shell out 2,000,000 dongs
for it. Sorry, mom.
Instead, I got razor clams, which are basically clams in these little bamboo-chute-shaped shells topped with fried garlic and butter, a grilled oyster covered with cheese, and these two grilled scallops on the shell in this incredible coconut broth. The meal absolutely blew my mind. And the best part? $10 USD.
That
being said, Vietnam fucks. Really stoked to see how these next few days play out.
SOTD – naturally, anything by CCR
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