Ho Chi Minh City

Memories and reveries, Saigon style

Words by Wilfred Marbella
Images by Mapoo Magracia

The streets of this historical Vietnamese city become the venue for some simple yet heartwarming people-watching and food-tripping for writer Wilfred Marbella and photographer Mapoo Magracia.

Motorcycles are rushing towards you, while another cabal of motorcycles make a sprint from every other direction. You’re surely in Vietnam; Ho Chi Minh City to be exact. In our case, it was District 1, near the famous Ben Thanh district.

As our taxi from the airport stopped along the sidewalk, the driver steps out, hands us our luggage, and with very limited vocabulary, points to an alley amidst vendors, who were literally on top of each other. He declares, “Hotel, hotel.” I was very apprehensive, to say the least. Scurrying to the entrance of the narrow pathway, I suddenly see, in colored light, the signage of the name of our hostel; what a sigh of relief.

Shooting from the hips

It was mid-afternoon and there was plenty of time to go around and investigate what District 1 has to offer. After a short rest, we braved the city streets. Mapoo, my photographer for the assignment, had slung his camera over his shoulder, much like a shoulder bag.

The first thing we saw, as we stepped outside the alley, was a church. Interesting. As we navigated the sidewalks, I would point to what I think are fascinating or curious sights like street vendors, tourists and other sentinels who littered the pathway that Mapoo might consider photographing, and I might consider writing about. Finally, after a few minutes, I asked him why he wasn’t taking pictures, and to my surprise he has been doing his job the entire time the camera was slung over his shoulder. No wonder he was handling the camera in the most awkward manner. As the saying goes: shooting from the hips, literally. Shooting street scenes can really be challenging since it can be an affront to the subjects when a camera is pointed directly at them. Mapoo has this knack of taking pictures without even looking through the view finder. So every now and then, when he stops a second longer or when he lingers, I knew he was taking pictures of the sights of District 1.

As we walked away from our hostel, along the avenue of Phạm Ngũ Lão, we were intrigued by the park on the left across the street, but we turned right because it looked like more action was happening that way. As we got to a particular corner, which I recall as Bui Vien, and upon seeing how wide and crazy-busy it was, we decided to explore.

This street was obviously a happening street. It was one café, bistro, diner, massage parlor, souvenir shop, tattoo shop after another. It actually reminded me of a mall, only it was outside and on the street. There were food vendors on carts, and cars on the road. Tourists, locals, hangers-on, and every imaginable character was walking the avenue. But despite the honky-tonk atmosphere, there were no street urchins, no beggars, no destitute individuals.

Mapoo, who confessed to accepting the assignment because he would like to take photos of the locals, was having a frustrating time. No ladies in ao dais with the de rigueur non la (conical hat). So we kept walking away from Bui Ven and before long, we chanced upon a group of young ladies, all in ao dais on scooters, all with individual passengers on their back. It was a tour group very much like the Vespa tour we took just a few days ago. With his camera still slung on his shoulder, Mapoo started shooting away, hoping a frame would come out good.

Dinner time in Saigon, without the pho

At some point, we reached dinner time, and feeling like the expert on Vietnamese food, I declared to my lensman, “You have to taste their spring roll and vermicelli noodles.” We started perusing the restaurants, and luckily, the first restaurant we stopped by had pictures in their menu, the goi cuon (fresh spring rolls) and chai gio (fried spring rolls). Curiously enough, when the order came, we were not given the entire ensemble. For the goi cuon, I was asking for peanut dip, which restaurants in Manila normally give, and the cha gio comes with nuoc cham, a dip that combines fish sauce, lemon, water and sugar, or what I call their universal sauce. About the peanut dip, I was told curtly, “No.” When I said fish sauce, that’s the only time the attendant brought out the nuoc cham. As for the bun thit nuon cha gio, my favorite vermicelli noodle dish, it was a lost cause. It wasn’t in the pictures on the menu and I completely forgot about getting help from the internet. Nevertheless, the different spring rolls were satisfying. After dinner, we went for more walking along Bui Ven to people-watch and burn off some of the devoured dinner just before bedtime.

The following day, at breakfast in the hostel, a Filipino father and son sat next to us. And as luck would have it, both the son and Mapoo were into the same thing, photography and IT. After breakfast and an exchange of what each of us has seen and experienced, it was walk-the-street time once more. This time, as we stepped out into the sidewalk, we got surprised: the dry goods market has suddenly become a wet market. Live fishes and mostly seafoods were up for sale. What was interesting is how they sold it. The vendors in the middle section were all on a platform, with knees up, they were seating on their bums while they look over their stocks. After a few curious scrutiny of their merchandise, and a few surreptitious clicks of the camera, we did some more walking.

Like being embraced amidst the frenzy

Crossing the streets of Saigon is an adventure in itself. When I first came here around five years ago, I would freeze. I have never seen so many motorcycles in my life. And when they are running around in a frenzied mayhem, it can be frightening. My niece, who worked in Saigon, told me, “Tito, just pretend they’re not there and whatever you do, don’t stop walking. They will be the one to adjust to you.” And so, remembering this sage advice, I was crossing the streets with aplomb and confidence.

To outsiders, Saigon, or if you prefer Ho Chi Minh City, is a city in a hurry, quite literally. It welcomes you, although you’ll have to learn fast to fend for yourself. But to sit down for a comforting meal – a bowl of pho or a tasty banh mi, or maybe some spring rolls, fresh or fried – is almost like being wrapped in a warm embrace that you can and will take home. Saigon is a place for making memories that linger.

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