30032013 Good afternoon Saigon

After filling our stomach with Vietnamese food, my friend brought us out for a tour of Saigon. Our first stop was the War Remnants Museum. Deep down somewhere in my memory when I last set foot in Vietnam was the sight of the tanks, but I couldn’t remember the gruesome pictures or exhibits which showcased how horrifying the war was. After a few rounds through the museum, we came to two conclusion. 1. The Vietnamese government really despise the Americans and 2. Most of the stuffs in there sounded very much like propaganda. They had a few texts up, which glorified some of their Vietnamese comrades who killed ‘insert large amount’ of American soldiers and was hailed as a martyr. There was also a prison outside which you could visit. On top of it all, the heat, humidity and sweat made it all more discomforting. Our second stop was the unification palace. The palace was huge and crowded with tons of tourists in groups. Since we were without tour guides, and there was only so much my Vietnamese friend could explain, we took to eavesdropping what the official tour guides were explaining to their tour members. Then, we found out that microphones were readily available in most rooms for their convenience! So we did what every fun-loving Malaysian likes to do, fooling around with the microphones, pretending that we were tour guides when no one was in sight. It worked well until one room when we were showing off our explanation skills and a Hong Kongnese tour guide asked us to get out of the way, which we did. Found a flight of stairs which took us up to the rooftop and had a drink there, on the former base of the South Vietnamese Army. From my Vietnamese friend’s explanation, they still personally felt that the North and South Vietnamese people are very different, especially after the war. Each had their reservations about the other, and they too said that, a Southerner would not trust a Northerner. However, much later, a Northern Vietnamese said that, they Northerners are more reserved about their feelings, as they do not like to cause trouble for the other party, and they felt that the Southern Vietnamese are too friendly, bordering on disturbing others’ personal space. Hmm. One of our last stop was the Notre Dam Cathedral. The only problem was that we arrived too late, and they were already closed to tourists. So we lounged outside with some cold drinks, watching people peddled their goods to unsuspecting tourists, making good bucks off them. In front of the old post office, many young females were getting their pictures taken. Apparently it’s a norm for them to dress up nicely, just to take pictures in groups, and boy, they are really good with their poses! Enroute to our dinner place, we passed by the city hall, and it looked magnificent! My Vietnamese friend happily obliged when we told her we wanted to stop and take some pictures of it. There was the old opera house near it, and they still hold performances in it. Our dinner was at a local restaurant which served pork noodles and was highly recommended by my friend. The broth was rather close to our Malaysian tastebuds, but they have an overwhelming serving of raw vegetables which I am not very accustomed to. Yet the company and the juicy meat made up for it. Parted ways at the water puppet theater as we wanted to catch a water puppet show. Our Vietnamese friends laughed at us and said they only watched it once, and it was too expensive for them to watch again, but they helped us negotiated for the tickets and ushered us in. Thanked them for their wonderful kindness and they sped off on their bikes while we went on to watch our show. Everything had changed very much from what I remembered as an 8 years old. The stage was much better and well built, and the puppets were decked out in much more colourful outfits. Back then, it was just a simple wooden makeshift stage, and you could see the feet of the people soaked in the large water tank, their upper bodies hidden by a black cloth, but now, there was nothing which gave them away. A group of musicians sat at the side playing their traditional musical instruments while lending their voices to the puppets. Water splashed here and there as the show went on, before ending with a bang of fireworks. Needless to say, I was very impressed. It was dark when the show ended, and we had to make our way back on foot to our hotel. Our problem was, we had no idea which direction it was, and none of the locals could understand our pronunciation for ‘Ben Thanh’ market. Either that or they were pointing us in some random direction which got us nowhere. We were getting rather frustrated when we passed by a Goddess of Mercy temple, and decided to just ask one of the men inside the temple grounds. He didn’t understand when we said ‘Ben Than’, but then one of the lady behind suddenly went, ‘BERRN TANNN!’ and we were like ‘Yeah!! That!!’. Turns out our pronunciation for it was wrong all the while. Those kind folks then pointed us in the correct direction and we thanked them. Walked two steps, then we both backtracked, and prayed to the Goddess of Mercy as a gesture of thanks. Finally we reached the night market, and it was overflowing with Malaysians, to an extend the locals there were speaking in Malay to attract potential customers or buyers for their wares, and shops lined streets were specially catered to a Malaysian’s taste. The market wasn’t that interesting for us, so we decided to head back to our hotel, when we had another problem. Neither one of us remembered the exact address of our hotel except for it’s quarter’s number. The locals were irritated with us, saying that its a huge district and unless you don’t have the exact name, no one can help you! We were getting lost and running out of ideas on what to do, partly beating ourselves up inside for not asking the hotel for their name card, when my friend fished our hotel key out of her pocket and lo and behold, the address of the hotel was on the key holder. With the address in hand, one would think that it would be easier to find our way back, but we still had a few more hiccups. The shop staff whom we showed the address to, asked us to turn left, then left again. We couldn’t find the hotel and saw a police, and he told us we had overshot it, and made us U-turn back. No hotel. Another local then showed us a random TLC signboard (no idea what it was for), then made us cross the crazy zig-zagging Vietnamese traffic (which we did with our eyes closed) to a square filled with children. We were tired and thirsty, so we bought some bottled water, then saw a security outside, so tried our luck again, and he brought us across the road again and finally we were on the right street and found our hotel soon after!