Ho Chí Minh is everything and nothing i expected!
on arrival, i thought, whoa! the airport is a whole lot prettier than i thought it would be! i’d expected a mollusk of a soup can, much like some airports or immigration counters i’ve been to. but it was bottom to ceiling glass windows, clean floors, clean clean clean.
it was CLEAN.
the immigration officer? very gentle, low voice, with a sweet gaze, as if to ask “where are you from?” without as much as uttering a word.
not that he needed to, he had my passport. he gave a small nod and a small smile when he was done.
there are bikes. and then there are bikes.
there are so many bikes in Ho Chi Minh, i’m inclined to think there are more bikes here than there are people (much like there are more sheep than there are Kiwis in NZ) although one bike can pack 2 adults and 2 children, all masked like they were off to some Saigonese masquerade ball at a community hall. the masks they sell for bikers here are so pretty, i want one. except i’ll look like a retard and a half riding the Singapore trains with a paisley face mask. BUT, going by how many disgusting people there are on Singapore’s public transport, maybe i should get one.
and the streets here. they are clean. so clean. the Vietnamese seem to be very, very clean people. when they have trash, they line them up nicely by the road. as if even trash is respected. i don’t even see many public dustbins around and it’s just clean.
did i say clean?
since I’m here visiting Ravi and not really exploring – yet – i’ve been quite lazy with walking the streets. plus i got a huge ass yeast infection just hours before arriving. on a Saturday night, when my gynae’s at home watching re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy or reading Gray’s Anatomy. it’s so goddamn FUCKING itchy, i’d be very pleased if i could just have a scratch-and-spiff pussy so a scratch can just make it all better. BUT IT DOESN’T. the heat doesn’t shoo candida away either. so unfortunately, i’ve been a little restricted with my exploring.
while walking the streets in District 1, suddenly i was confronted by this giant alien metallic roof structure at the corner of one of the typical Saigonese french-style shophouses.
it was Louis Vuitton.
it is HUGE (considering where we are, a small developing nation in Asia). and suddenly, i felt like i was in France. that was the moment i was waiting for. the feeling that i was in France. not that there aren’t many French-style buildings and patisseries. which brings me to the cakes. that’s all i’ve been eating. cakes. not even pho, the famous Vietnamese noodles.
i can barely button up one of my blouses 3 days into my trip.
and yet the Vietnamese themselves are so, so, so petite. i feel like Dali-ath beside them. just today, in Al Fresco, a little Western eatery, the waitress asked, “where you from?” when i say Singapore, she nods. i then joked “are you from Vietnam?” but she thought i asked if i look Vietnamese and she says,
“yes, yes, you look like some *gestures FAT by winging arms upwards* Vietnamese.”
i finished the remaining half of my Vietnamese fried rice, every last morsel of it, then ran off to Brodard to get me some cakes. because i wanted to look like some Vietnamese.
we’ll visit Cu Chi this weekend. i wonder if i’ll get stuck in the tunnels and petite Vietnamese firefighters with bulging biceps will bail me out.