Saigon stories

Saigon is a tough town. I totally got burned by a cyclo driver this morning, as we had agreed on 15,000 (about $1) when I got on but he tried to charge me 150,000 ($10) when I got off. Lucky for me, some other cyclo drivers came to my rescue as my cyclo drive made a scene screaming on the street that I was a cheating lying Chinese American.

That did it. That crossed the line for me, I paid him $5 just to make him leave in peace.

So there goes a quarter the money I saved from haggling earlier today over art, bags, train tickets, food and moto rides. But really I had a couple funny encounters in the morning amidst the insanity that is Saigon traffic.

Moto traffic in Saigon, where there are reportedly over 3 million motorcycles.

My guesthouse thinks I'm an American Vietnamese and thus they really don't try to rip me off too much. In fact, when I showed them my passport for check-in they looked at me like I was one of the Vietnamese boat people who escaped and had made it bigtime. The manager is very eager to do business, but is unfortunately not very good at it. He tells me he doesn't bargain, that's not the kind of business he wants to run. He wants a solid business with fair set prices. "Just like the Westerners," he would say.

And it's true, I saw him quote the same price for many customers. Although when I nearly bought the night train ticket from across the street for $15 less, he definitely did a double take and stepped up to give me the same price.

Southern Vietnam is full of anti Viet Cong sentiments. (read: Vietnam Communists. Or as Vietnamese seem to think Americans like to say, Victor Charleys). Locals often told me to "becareful" around national buildings. Or joking about cultural differences by simply saying "but that's because we're communist!" In fact, Saigon has outgrown the old world post-colonialism flavor that once filled its streets. Instead, I found rapid capitalism spreading in the veins of good natured locals.

My luck in cyclo drivers came later. I met a toothless man who spoke very good English, and drove a cyclo. I immediate suspected that he was one of the educated Vietnamese men who Viet Cong stripped of their rights and citizenship on grounds that they sided with Americans. And it was true. Traung refuse to call Saigon by it's current name, Ho Chi Minh city, and he use to be work for what he calls a "respectable American firm" back in the 70s. He was then arrested, jailed, and sent to reeducation camps for 2 years. Now he's technically an illegal immigrant in Saigon, working as a moto driver because it's the only job he can do.

Traung shows me a photo from 1972, when he was a war photographer for the South.

After a tiring day of sight seeing, Traung brought me to an amazing local pho restaurant in the back streets of Saigon call Pho Boa. The food in Saigon is truly amazing. Freshly made, with the aroma of nature and more than adequate flavor make for the best bowl of pho I've ever had. Traung refused to let me buy him dinner because "You're just a girl," he said. "Plus my wife would kill me if I didn't eat her dinner!" With that, I laughed approvingly and instead bought him a beer. Traung also said he had a fun day with me, and almost didn't accept all of the money I had promised him. Fully appreciating his old world kindness, I sent him off with $13 for the day's work. These are the characters you meet on the streets of Saigon.