My experience with Saigon can only be described as an assault on the senses.

Even on the bus journey in, whilst trying to stop feeling sick and looking out the window, we witnessed a motorbike crash. I could not get over the sheer volume of motorbikes – they were everywhere. With seemingly no road rules – bikes literally just squidged past each other at junctions, went when they felt like it and swerved all over the road – the sight of Ho Chi Minh city from road was insane. And that’s when they even stayed on the roads.

The overwhelming assault continued when we got off the bus. We knew where we were supposed to be dropped off, and it was the street our guesthouse was on. We just didn’t know if we had actually been dropped off there. Having had little sleep, we were already disoriented and confused without having to hold up our Rough Guide map and try to establish where we were. All whilst trying to keep hold of our rucksacks, as motorbike drivers kept trying to get us on the back of their bike – normally by just taking our bags and walking off with them. And there was no chance I was getting on any bike!

As mentioned before, we were saved by a couple of girls who had already spent time in HCM. They told us where we needed to be and got us in a taxi. The relief as we wandered down our alley to find the Diep Anh Guesthouse was quite literally radiating off us. We went in, to be greeted by two of the loveliest people I have ever met – Mr and Mrs Anh. Offering us water and coffee, they sat us down and talked us through Saigon – where to go, where not to go, what to eat.  Specifically, they told us where to eat if we wanted local food and if we wanted a wider range of food, and we knew instantly they weren’t doing this on the back of any commission system (not least because they recommended incredibly good, cheap places).

After showing us to our room, which was incidentally one of the best places we stayed with the exception of the four flights of stairs we had to climb to get to it, we laid down and decided what to do with our day. I was still feeling horrendous, but not wanting to waste any time, we decided to take a stroll up to the War Museum, having a chance to explore the city a bit as we went.

Our first trial happened when we tried to cross the road. And I mean tried. There were no gaps in the traffic, no easing of the flow, no traffic lights further down the road that meant there was time to dash across. It was never-ending! After watching a few locals, we realised the only way to cross is to just step out, don’t hesitate and stroll to the other side. The motorbikes move for you, and if you falter in your step, that’s when things can go horribly wrong. However, that’s a lot easier said than done, especially when you have grown up on the Green Cross Code…

Here’s an example I found on YouTube of a road in Saigon… I’m not exaggerating when I say this is what we had to attempt to cross at every move:

Having navigated our first road (you do have to be wary of the cars though – you can’t just step out in front of them), we crossed through the park and up in the direction of the museum. A few more roads crossed, we were getting into the stride of this Vietnamese City way of living. That is until the pavements became no more as well.

Having a city full of bikes is great for travelling the short distances from home to work – I really can see that. You can dart and dodge, weave and wind around other traffic. However, what happens when you want to park your bike somewhere? Where do you store millions of motorbikes when they’re not at home?

Answer: the pavements.

There were some large motorbike storage and rental parks in the city. But pretty much the front of every shop, restaurant or house was a motorbike park. This meant that not only did you have to walk on the road a considerable amount of the time, but you also had to watch out for the motorbikes coming off the road and parking.

Anyway, enough of the crazy road system. We got to the War Museum… and were faced with aircraft and tanks at the entrance. I instantly thought of my Dad – this is his dream! I wanted to escape the heat and the sun as I was still feeling pretty horrific from not sleeping so we went in. The place was busy – tourists were milling all around the foyer and we had a little look around the posters and prints on the walls. They were mainly media articles about the global response to the Vietnam / American War and how the world slowly came to be on the side of the Vietnamese.

I’d heard that you need a stiff brandy when leaving the museum, but this seemed relatively calm. And very one-sided. The realisation quickly hit me that North Vietnam won the war – and therefore would never admit their wrongdoings in the war. This made me sad… and quite angry. I completely admit that the American behaviour during the war was a atrocious, and a global travesty. They should have been stopped earlier. But, I do feel that the Americans (and indeed other countries) have admitted they were wrong. Admittedly, it can’t take it back. And admittedly, I think there is a lot more America could be doing now to help those affected by their actions. But what about the impact on the American / foreign soldiers? A generation was left incredibly messed up by that war, and by the mental warfare used by the Vietcong. The lucky ones were able to return, return to work and continue their lives, whilst still having flashbacks, nightmares and hallucinations. The unlucky ones either didn’t return, or on their return started a downward spiral of self-destruction. I’ll talk more about the tactics used by the Vietcong later.

We went upstairs to look at the rest of the rooms, and this is where the horror really hit. The photos of children who were with born with birth defects and the photos of the burns and injuries inflicted from chemical attacks were lump in the throat stuff. What really shocked me was the fact that children are being born to this day with serious birth defects still due to the actions of the American government. I saw a poster in the Vietnamese Embassy about raising money for those affected by the war before I went away, but nowhere else have I seen any campaigns or adverts for helping those still affected. Maybe I just haven’t been looking.

The point that overwhelmed me was the embalmed Siamese twins (who were either miscarried, still-born or aborted, I couldn’t look closely enough to find out the details). With the OH asking me what it was whilst I quickly hurried away, I felt sick to the stomach. That brandy was becoming more and more appealing.

One area of the museum that I found particularly interesting was the exhibit on the photography and reporting of the war. I worked in the media at the time, and those who choose to specialise in war reporting and photography have always fascinated me. The exhibit talked through the Vietnam War in pictures, from the presence and departure of the French in the 50s to the American involvement in the 60s and 70s, it really is true what they say – a picture says a thousand words. The exhibit also gave the background of the photographers – many of whom perished in the war. I built, and still have, a massive respect for those who risk their lives to report on the realities of conflicts and portray the personal stories for those thousands of miles away.

That’s enough on Vietnam and the American war for now.  I’m off to enjoy a Toffee Nut Latte and watch some unsuitably Christmassy films..

Enjoy,

CatDog xx