| Monsoon a go-go Posted Tuesday, 08 August 2006 | ||
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| On all the signs it's Ho Chi Minh City, to all government officials it's Ho Chi Minh City, and to all the inhabitants of historically Communist Hanoi it's Ho Chi Minh City. But to the people of Ho Chi Minh City it's only ever been Saigon. And the name is everywhere - on petrol stations, cafes, and newspapers. Because the name Saigon still officially exists. As both the name of the river that divides the city and the name for the central district - Saigon 1 - and so, because of this blurring of the rules, it's unofficially officially still Saigon. Saigon is not as instantly as engaging as Hanoi. It hasn't got the beautiful narrow streets of the French Quarter, nor the lake that brings some calm to Hanoi's centre. Saigon is big, busy and full of motorbikes. People really seem to moan about the cars and bikes but by this point we'd spent three weeks in Vietnam and so knew exactly how to cross the road (walk slowly and pray the drivers see you). But it has a commercial buzz and zeal the capital lacks. Saigon is going places, ever forward, striving ahead. Unfortunately Wendy and I didn't strive much further than bar Allez Boo - an indie music filled westerners bar. Our days of seeing the 'real' culture of the Highlands was all too much. We needed some 'fake' culture again. And what culture! An Indian tourist throwing a chair at an inebriated up-for-a-fight Aussie and a deaf with no speech ex-prostitute whose young child would happily play hide-and-seek with the tourists until way past bedtime. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Quite fun really. We saw not an awful lot, but then there’s not an awful lot to see. There’s a lot to eat and drink though – including delicious iced coffee and sweet gloopy condensed milk served in a see-through plastic bag. The main post office was very grand and there may have been a museum on both Ho Chi Minh's life and the war crimes of Imperialist America but we'd seen about five each of those already and they lose their novelty value. We did go to the War Remnants Museum where captured American fighter jets and helicopters sit in the car park surrounded by snap-happy tourists and idle Toyotas waiting for Uncle Sam to rescue them. | ||
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