Bustling Saigon
The sun was brightly shining and people were preparing to open their respective businesses - news stands, coffee stalls, soup stalls. The economy is built upon Vietnamese entrepreneurs operating their own businesses, often out of their homes, or from stalls set up near their homes. Each business owner specialized in one thing only - a particular type of noodle soup or dish (only sells pho, banh cuon, or banh mi). Although other items might be on the menu, it was obvious that one should stick to the specialty.
This explains why Mom and Dad always order the same thing over and over again, at the same restaurants. When we would insist on being adventurous and order from the expanded American menu, they'd nod knowingly when we complained that the dish was not well-prepared. I found myself teaching this lesson to my American friends, also, when I started eating at Vietnamese restaurants more often with them: if it's a rice joint, don't order pho; if it's a pho place, don't order the rice.
The Ben Thanh market stalls were already smelling strongly of fresh seafood, and the streets were starting to fill with noisy mopeds and cars, kicking up the dust that would eventually mute the sunlight across the city by late morning. Back at the hotel, everyone had the delicious breakfast buffet on the 10th floor, which had a nice view of the city. The buffet consisted of bun gio (pork knuckle noodle soup), banh mi (cold cut sandwiches with french butter and pate), fresh fruit, fried rice, eggs, congee, and Vietnamese pork roll. Pretty sweet if you ask me!
My uncle's niece, Ty, came to give us a tour of the city, while some of our group hopped a plane to Hue a day early. Alex and I were catching a plane the next day with Alan, once he arrived from L.A. (via overnight layover in Taipei). Ty, Alex, Tony and his parents and I ate about 6 times this day - broken rice, noodles of all kinds, street food snacks, and a seafood tapas spread for dinner at a relative's home in Lu Gia neighborhood. The four "kids" walked all over the city that day.
We visited the Reunification Palace, learning little as the only tour available was the Vietnamese tour and they spoke very quickly, using complicated historic terms, and the words also sounded muddled on the over-amplified P.A. system.
We had coffee at Trung Nguyen (famous coffee also sold in the US), observed high school and college students meeting in the park to play music and games on a Sunday afternoon, stopped for banh cuon (broad noodles), visited a Hindu temple, haggled for souvenirs at Ben Thanh market, at ice cream at Fanny's, and looked for an affordable tailor to make custom suits for Alex. We stopped at a Vietnamese bookstore called Fahasa, and got some souvenirs and books in Viet for Mom.
Before we knew it, it was dinner time and we took a cab in the torrential downpour to a relative's for dinner. We visited a home where Tony's aunts and uncles lived. After some calculation, we determined they are my first cousins, once removed - Grandfather's nephews. The women congregated in the kitchen, chatting constantly over a shared stove and producing delicious smelling seafood dishes. The men (and me, since I was a guest or maybe because I was younger) sat at the dinner table, which was slowly becoming overfull with the small dishes, drinking lots and lots of Heineken. One of the uncles (90 years old now) was a former English teacher in Vietnam; his English was very good and clear. He was nearly deaf and did not join the men, but sat near the kitchen, reading his books.
Uncle Viet, Cau Be (Uncle Diep's childhood friend), Mr. Duc
Women in Vietnam do not drink alcohol. They don't even offer it to us. And if Alex, a cousin, or I got myself a beer, I would not be included in the toast/cheers. This did not offend me because Mom always told me "girls shouldn't drink beer". Besides, enough American cousins were around to ensure I always got a cold one when they did. I did mention it to one of the Ho Uncles near the end of the trip. He apologized for not including me before (he did not know I wanted to be included in beer drinking) and spent the rest of that evening offering me beers and cheers!
Alex and I caught a cab back on the slightly flooded streets, and were forced to listen to a Celine Dion album during the ride - that must have been the cabbie's courtesy to American tourists. We got ready to go to Hue with Alan the next day.
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