It is hard to image that the city had been nearly leveled by war.  Concrete constructed hotels, storefronts, housing, and government buildings line the streets uninterrupted.  The sound of moped motors buzzing and horns beeping was rich until the wee hours of  the morning.  No sign of traffic control in sight, the threat of collision occurs every second in every direction you look.  Crossing the street is a risk you have to take if traveling by foot through the center of Saigon.  I felt like I was playing double dutch each time I chose to place my foot into the road.

In 2006 I visited Vietnam with my friend from college.  His family was from the village of Qui Nhon.  I am the type of person who jumps at the opportunity to travel just about anyplace yet seen.  Contrary to what many Americans think, South Vietnam is not  very unstable or hostile.  It is almost completely opposite and surprisingly tourist friendly and welcoming to visitors.

Although my airport experience was more third worldly than I imagined it would be.  Actually, I didn’t expect anything, so pretty much my total experience was eye opening.  It was dimly lit and congested with hasty commuting bodies.  I was by far the tallest person in the entire building.  At 6’4″ that is normal, but I felt really really tall compared to my fellow Vietnamese fliers.   A sea of  people moving  around (pushing and shoving) greeted me at the bagged claim area.  I don’t remember if there was just one baggage claim for the airport or not, but it certainly felt like it.   I wasn’t given one pinch of mercy while watching the tops of hundreds of heads squirm and squeeze around my torso to find their revolving suitcases.

When I got out the doors, I was slammed with another surprise.   I witnesses an exodus of arriving passengers searching for a chance to greet their long awaiting relatives.   The scene was even more chaotic than inside the terminal and the energy was overwhelmingly heartwarming.  Groups of relatives, friends, and lovers were anxiously waiting and fervently looking for their honored traveler amongst the mass  who just arrived.  I was moved by embraces, tears of joy, and smiles all around me as people united after being apart for long intermissions.

The people I met in the city of Saigon and the village of Qui Nhon were generally interested in talking to me so they could practice their English and get to know about my American experience.  The young bellhop was more hip to American pop music than I will ever be.  I had never heard of most of his favorite pop stars.

I did expect to be constantly approached by merchants, beggers, tourist trappers, and so on.  But I can recall only one small boy, with a face covered in grime, ask if I would like to purchase a lottery ticket.   It is possible attitudes were lighter because it was the New Year season, at time when most don’t work and take up drinking and socializing for two weeks.  In some respects I can say the urban experience in Ho Chi Mihn isn’t much different than American cities.  Its hard to look past culture, economic and social differences.  But I do tend to have the habit of forcing similarities between different cultures when comparing.  In fact this city is much active and growing than some large U.S. cities.

Qui Nhon farm land

Bodega

the driver snapped my pic

granddad and son

village fair ride

fishing junk boats